Displaced Nobility
by ZiPeppe
Summary: The universe needed someone capable of fighting the Reapers, but the universe went a little too far and nabbed someone unexpected for that role.
1. Prologue - Part 1

Prologue

_What is the difference between a Hero and a Villain?_

The first thing Azula noticed when she woke up was not the different seat she was on; it was the noise. It had interrupted her ... meditation – meditation, definitely, she had most certainly not been sleeping on the history scroll she was supposed to study. It was constant in the background, always changing but never stopping. Curiosity and annoyance both demanded the discovery, and appropriate punishment, of the culprit. Any ill intent she might have felt, however, evaporated when she opened her eyes.

She was somewhere outside, and – more importantly – no longer at home. She jumped up from her seat, panic threatening to overwhelm her before she remembered who she was; a member of the royal family would NOT act like a scared peasant! Once she regained some control over herself, she started examining her new environment: she was in a small and badly maintained garden, surrounded by a tall wooden fence on three sides, and a small two-storey building made of bricks with a wooden door on the last. Its style was unfamiliar – something made by the Earth Kingdom maybe?

Had they managed to kidnap her? As preposterous as the thought of some lowlife barbarians accomplishing such a feat was, it also remained the only logical explanation. Though the lack of restraints or guards made no sense. After all, someone capable of snatching her from one of the most, if not the most, secure place in the Fire Nation surely could be not be THAT incompetent. It would be insulting; and rather shameful, too. Well, if they WERE that incompetent, she would gladly teach them the last lesson of their miserable life; and if they were not, they would survive her retaliation.

Probably.

Azula opened the door silently and entered the house. The interior wasn't lit but it didn't look like it was in the same state of disrepair as the garden. However, the house was clearly old, and looked empty. Azula, not taking any chances, kept moving as silently as possible, exploring the house until she arrived in a slightly bigger room. It contained several cushioned chairs positioned around a strange rectangular contraption on a wooden shelf.

"Strange," muttered Azula as she got closer to the object. "What is this?"

Curiosity and caution warred within her. Curiosity wanted to examine the strange object; given its central position, it had to be important, and could give her some clues on the identities of her captors. But caution demanded that she secure the building before poking around for clues.

In the end curiosity won, as more information on who kidnapped her would help her fight them more effectively. Hesitantly Azula got closer to the object, and, trying to determine the materials it was built with, she ran her hands over its surface. Suddenly the thing started speaking in a weird language and – even more disturbingly – _people_ appeared inside it.

Panicking, she started to press everywhere on the surface, hoping to stop whatever was happening; but as nothing happened, she took a more direct approach and threw it down, breaking it. Suddenly a faint sound, almost like an angry hiss, reached her ears. Azula, reacting instinctively, rolled to the side, barely dodging a club aimed at her head; she ended the roll in a crouch, and let loose a fiery blast towards the attacker, striking him in the chest.

.*.

John Doe was a thief, mostly he did small time stuff, but recently he had had a stroke of luck and managed to rob the house of a really rich guy, the theft even managing to catch the attention of the local news agencies. For the moment he was laying low, hiding in a house he had bought under a false name, and he was waiting for everything to calm down before selling the most unique things he had taken.

He was sleeping when the noise of a door opening woke him up; he was alone in the house and nobody knew he was here, so it was probably someone that had seen the empty-looking house and thought it an easy job. Whispering a few curses, he grabbed his baseball bat and stealthily climbed down the stairs, ready to deal with the intruder, who had apparently decided to watch some television judging by the sounds. Apparently the trespasser was a child – he couldn't tell whether the kid was male or not – but he was clearly trying to shut down the television. John almost snorted in derision. If you fucked up like that, you didn't stand around waiting for the angry owner to bash your skull in.

Any resemblance to current situations was of course purely coincidental.

It was at that point that the kid decided to smash his rather expensive TV – an antique he was rather fond of – to silence it. With anger running through John's mind, he raised his bat, a faint hiss of fury escaping his lips, and struck. The kid, though, had already dodged, and John was turning when a burst of flames hit his chest.

He fell down; the pain was unbearable, he couldn't even scream. As he managed to focus a little, he realized he needed help immediately if he wanted to survive. John reached for his omnitool, hoping to call for help, but his body was going numb, his focus slipping, and a moment later everything went black.

.*.

Azula was not amused. A commoner like him, not even a bender, trying to kill her? Insulting, really. Talking boxes quickly forgotten, she began getting closer to the man; she did not want to leave a potential enemy at her back. As she got closer, she saw the man's forearm briefly encompassed with a transparent orange construct, a moment before he died. Very surprised, Azula tried to look for whatever had produced such a phenomenon, but the memory of what had happened the last time prompted Azula to secure the area first.

When she reached the second floor, she found an open window, and was reaching to close it when the unexpected view completely destroyed every assumption she had made. In the distance gigantic towers could be seen, nothing like anything the Earth Kingdom had ever built. Flying vehicles were darting everywhere, and the people were dressed like nothing she had ever seen. A deep sense of dread settled in her.

Where was she?


	2. Prologue - Part 2

This is really, really embarrassing. there was a second part to the prologue and _I completely forgot it existed_! You all have no idea how dumb I'm feeling right this moment.

Prologue Part 2

Inconceivable! It was impossible! And yet it was true: she was in a house with things the best scientist and engineers of the Fire Nation couldn't even dream of, and that was without mentioning the marvels she saw out of the window. How long she had just _stared_ at the city like a slack-jawed idiot? Azula shook her head; she needed to focus if she wanted to find a way home. And to do that, the first thing she needed to know was where she has been taken to.

Wherever she was, she must be in a land very far away – somewhere beyond the Four Nations, even; otherwise rumors of a civilization capable of such things would have reached the Fire Lord's ears. Or maybe not, she corrected herself – it would have been judged ridiculous and the messenger warned not to waste the precious time of her grandfather with such wild tales or else. Which was something she would have agreed with, until a few moments ago.

Wild tales or not, she was here, and she needed the information. Maybe there were some clues inside the house; it was a long shot, but she was reluctant to go outside. As far as she knew this was hostile territory, and the less she was seen the better.

* * *

><p>The search did not go well at first. There were plenty of books and various objects similar to the one she had smashed, but ignorance hid her prize. She did not know the language these people used and she had no intentions to stay long enough to learn it. She returned back in the room with the smashed device, and sat on one of the chairs, trying to keep her irritation from the recent failure at bay. She would try one more time in the house – see if there was anything she had missed – if she found nothing useful again, she had no choice but to venture outside and …<p>

"You have mail."

Alarmed by the strange voice, Azula jumped out of the chair and landed in a roll, ready to blast the interloper, but – to her great surprise – she was alone.

"Whoever you are, if you show yourself right now I promise to be merciful," said Azula in her best commanding voice.

It was then that she noticed the glowing device had reappeared on her assailant's hand, only for it to flicker away a few seconds later. Cautiously Azula approached the corpse, and examined the arm where the thing appeared. All she found was a device strapped on the arm. She couldn't understand how something like that could be linked to the semi-transparent orange construct she had seen, or the voice, but it was the only thing present on the man's limbs aside from his clothes.

After a bit of fiddling she managed to remove the object from the dead man's arm, and put it on herself. As soon as she put it on her arm, it immediately activated, coloured panels appearing on her forearm from thin air, and started talking.

"Greetings, new user. Thank you for purchasing..."

"Great! You too speak that weird language," interrupted Azula, frustrated.

"User language recognized, rebooting using new base language. Loading ... Loading complete. Greetings, new user. Thank you for purchasing the Ariake Technologies Omnitool Artemis Mark Four. This is the personalized V.I. you requested."

"I ... I can understand you! How?!" said a stunned Azula, an inkling of hope growing inside her. Maybe she wasn't as lost as she had thought she was, if this people knew her native language.

"The voice sample provided matched a language present in the database; the software rebooted using the new base language."

"You mean you have knowledge of this language?"

"The language is present in the database."

"I'll take that as a yes ... And if you have that knowledge, then you must know its origins."

"The information requested is not present."

"Don't lie to me!" Azula nearly screamed growing angrier. "If you know the language, then you must know where it came from - it is as simple as that! Speak, entity, or I'll destroy you!"

"The information requested is not present. If the user is unsatisfied, please contact the nearest authorized seller or contact Customer Service through the Kassa Fabrication extranet site."

"Extranet? How do I go there? What is it?"

"Extranet access is available on this omnitool, and vocal commands are possible. The manual activation requires ..."

The explanation was exhaustive and complete, even if the entity seemed a little dumb. She couldn't understand exactly _what_ the extranet was, but right now that wasn't important – she needed to find a way home. After going through the "tutorial for a safe navigation of the extranet" a couple of times, Azula felt ready to use it and hopefully discover where in the world she was.

"Open extranet access," said Azula, and then suddenly a thought flashed through her mind: why not see what the previous owner of this "omnitool" had been doing? It surely couldn't hurt. "Resume previous session." A 'screen', as the entity called it, appeared and an unexpected scene appeared on the screen.

"Oh God! YES! YES!"

Her eyes widened so much it seemed they were about to fall out and her mouth opened slightly; two women were … were … "Close session! NOW!" Suddenly snarled a quite scandalized and angry Azula, she would have nothing to do with such … disgraceful pastimes. After a few moments to let the anger subside she began searching for a way home again.

This time, she was careful to open a new session.

* * *

><p>The truth she found left her numb. The geography was wrong, the nations were wrong, her country didn't exist, THEY didn't exist; Mother, Father, Zuzu, that tea-loving uncle of hers, Ty Lee and Mai, everything the Fire Nation was and had accomplished had never happened here, never existed. Even her status as nobility was nothing. Humanity was an interstellar government, and bending as she knew it didn't exist; on the other hand, <em>aliens<em> existed! _Aliens!_ Some looked like humans, like those blue women, but others were quite different, to say the least.

Her mind was thrown for a loop; she couldn't understand how it was possible for an entire world to disappear, and yet it had. She shut off the omnitool and sank down onto the nearby couch, staring at the wall. Slowly the reality of the situation sank in and an indescribable sense of loss and fear took her.

Azula could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but every time she blinked them away in stubborn defiance. She kept wondering if she would ever see her home, or anyone she knew again, until she fell asleep, exhausted. It was dawn when Azula woke up, and felt shame for her loss of composure; she was taught to be better that this, she _was_ better than this – self-pity accomplished nothing.

So what if she was in a world so different from her own? She was smart, and she still had her firebending; there was nothing to fear. She would find a way back; she would learn all the secrets of this strange world and bring them home with her to further advance the glory of the Fire Nation; and if she ever discovered who or what played this '_prank_' on her, she would make him or it pay, no matter what.

Having objectives to achieve made Azula feel better already, she was finally taking back control over her life. As she was considering her next move, the first obvious thing to accomplish was the disposal of the body – for the short term, at least. The huge cold box she had found during her exploration seemed a good option for now. Dragging the body downstairs wasn't easy – more than once, she considered making some fire knives to chop it down to more manageable pieces for her small frame – but she made it. As she was making space for the body, she noticed something strange: the omnitool kept activating each time her hand lingered over some of the writings presents on the boxes, the translation of the writings appearing on a small screen.

Azula then remembered the entity mentioning a "database", which had to contain both this language and her own, at the very least. The possibility of learning this new language – thus eliminating a rather annoying weakness – and knowing more about this incredibly useful tool excited her; she wanted to start as soon as possible.

Which was as soon as she managed to shove that thrice-cursed overweight waste of flesh into the tall cold box, and after some time and much effort, she managed to do so.

* * *

><p>For once luck seemed to be on Azula's side: investigating the various omnitool functions, she found something called a universal translator. With its help, it was relatively simple to find out the name of every object foreign to her that was present in the house. Once she had the new name, it was easy enough to look each one up on the extranet for more information.<p>

The presence of the Virtual Intelligence also helped immensely, though if she was having difficulties believing that it was an artificial construct. She couldn't even begun to fathom how such a thing was possible, but she was determined to understand it. Unfortunately, this meticulous process took several hours, but in the end she had at least some basic knowledge of the things she had found in the house. This included the computer where the now deceased former owner – a certain John Doe – had kept some kind of diary where he recounted his deeds. Rather _pathetic _deeds in her opinion; but his diary described them like they were criminal masterpieces. This man surely had an oversized ego.

The most interesting entry of this diary was one of the most recent: he claimed to have managed to ... "acquire" and sell some really expensive valuables – including a top-of-the-line omnitool with a customized V.I. that he had obviously kept. The money would have allowed him to live comfortably for a few months while the false identity he had set up – someone called Jeremiah Shepard – would have provided needed security from the – in his opinion – local overworked and understaffed law enforcement.

This was all Azula needed: an adult name to hide behind – though she had to admit, Azula Shepard, niece of Jeremiah Shepard sounded really weird – enough money to get her by until she got a better understanding of the world she was in, and time to plan her rise to power.

_'I am coming, world.'_ she thought. _'Prepare yourself.'_

_'Not that you have any chance anyway'._


	3. Chapter 1

A little bit of service announcement: The underscored parts of this chapter were supposed to be written in a different font (Square721 BT), unfortunately this option seems to be unavailable here. It was an experiment I tried (it was supposed to indicate a synthetic sounding voice speaking), one that is not being repeated.

Now on to the story.

.*.

Chapter 1

.

**23 August 2161**

"It's been a bit over a month since my arrival on Earth, it's still a very strange situation and I still having problems adapting. I keep missing references of all types when I overhear conversations, from historical to the recent play on the television.

Because of that unfamiliarity I avoided going out unless necessary as a way to limit my interaction with other people, a drastic measure maybe but a necessary one. In the mean time I will keep learning what I can about this place from inside the house and keep practicing the new language with this diary. Relying on the omnitool's automatic translator would be odd – I think – and it is a weakness I don't want.

So, to make a long story short, I need to be at least passingly familiar with the language and the culture here before really starting to go around and interact with other people. Following what passes for entertainment here should do the trick and the reruns of the Simpsons might be a good place to start. Its return seemed popular on the local extranet.

Zuzu, stop recording and use base encryption 3."

"Acknowledged."

**8 October 2161**

"... I also found enough credited online courses, books and information on the extranet to give myself at least a basic education. Given how much everyone relies on computers, I thought it best to focus my attention in that area. It should come in handy in the future."

"Alert: Gym appointment with Sifu Cisneros. Alert: Gym appointment with Sifu Cisneros. Alert … "

"Yes, yes, I have heard you. Stop the alert and erase it. Oh, well. I guess I'll continue after I come back."

**8 October 2161**

The lesson with Sifu Cisneros, not as bad as I imagined but not as good as I hoped. It was not one on one like I was used to, but rather I was taught along with a lot of other children. Of course I was the best of the class, however this also meant Sifu Cisneros could dedicate more time to the others. I expected that, but I'm afraid this will take a toll on my training.

Right now I only hope I can skip ahead, because looking at the other morons I was saddled with trying to kick or punch is just painful.

**11 June 2162**

My first birthday here. It's … strange, somehow. Bought myself two litres of ice-cream as a treat.

**12 June 2162**

I shouldn't have eaten all that ice-cream.

**15 June 2163**

I am ashamed to admit I only just discovered how dire my financial situation has become. I mean … I never had to think about something like that, I was a princess and I … am no one now. I have solved it temporarily by selling a few items present in the house on the extranet, but it obviously can't be a permanent solution. On the other hand I am too young and without any kind of ID or paperwork to find a job, and the prospect of ending up in some institution dedicated to help 'orphans' does not sit well with me.

Doing that would also make me unable to continue my self-training in firebending, something I find completely unacceptable. It is already slow going, I can't and won't tolerate any delay in its progress.

In other words I have to find another solution.

**16 June 2163**

I may have found the solution to my financial problem. As far as I can see it is the only other option open to me, no matter how … distasteful I personally find it. Yet it's better than the alternatives I have. I'll start today, it shouldn't be too difficult for someone trained in martial arts like me.

**16 June 2163 – Several hours later**

I was almost caught! He … He must have felt my hand slipping inside the pocket, or the credit chip when coming out, I don't know! I was lucky there was a suspicious looking man right behind me, and he immediately caught the attention of my target. I used the distraction they caused and my small size to slip away unnoticed, but I could have been … caught.

.*.*.

_The man turned around faster than she believed someone of his size could, his eyes zeroing on the scrawny tattooed youth that was behind her._

"_You! Give it back!"_

"_What? What are you talking about man?"_

"_Don't play coy with me _boy, _the credit chit you took from my pocket, give it back and I will forget this."_

_Unnoticed by the two men and the crowd forming around them, a small figure quietly made its escape._

_.*.*._

It is inconceivable! I am a princess of the Fire Nation, I shouldn't BE here or doing anything like THAT! I want … I want to…

Breath in … breath out … Breath in … breath out … Breath in … breath out … Okay, okay.

What I want is irrelevant. I am here to stay and nothing will change that. For the moment I'll keep pickpocketing as last resort and keep selling what valuable objects I possess. Priority will be given to refining my computer skills, maybe cracking ATM machines will prove to be a less risky and equally lucrative venture.

Zuzu, terminate session.

**10 July 2163**

Betting on the computer skills was the right call. A bit of old fashioned disguise and spreading the hacking all over the city at random intervals is keeping me from being identified. Making a copy of Zuzu and using it as a training dummy was also fundamental in my success.

Hopefully things will not get any worse.

**3 January 2164**

I am a teaching assistant now.

When Sifu Cisneros realized I mastered everything he taught faster and better than anyone else, he had no choice but to 'promote' me. It is a great honour and a sign of respect, however it also mean that now I am saddled with the more helpless cases. The ones in need of … remedial lessons.

There is one that is especially grating, she is a complete klutz and even has the bruises to prove it. Sifu initially believed she was the victim of abuse, that assumption lasted until she tripped on her own two feet. Along with other accidents of course.

At least she is upbeat about it, and keeps a good mood despite her difficulties.

.*.*.

"_No no no. Stop. It's like _this,_ you see? If you don't you'll … "_

"_OW!"_

"_Faceplant on the floor."_

"_At least I'm making progress."_

"_You are?"_

"_Yep! The floor is starting to crack."_

"_Heh."_

_.*.*._

**20 July 2165**

I made great progress with my 'students'. Sifu Cisneros lauded my ability and responsibility and decided to teach me some more advanced moves. "You have earned it." he said.

On a less good note, the klutz – her name is Clara by the way – started calling me Senpai or even worse Az-Senpai. While I appreciated the show of respect – regardless of the fact it is in the wrong language – I wasn't as grateful of her butchering my name. I objected of course but in the end I can't exactly stop her from talking however she wants.

.*.*.

"_It's not my name!"_

"_Pleeaaaseee!"_

"_NO!"_

_At that the lower lip started quivering slightly, the eyes brimming with unshed tears barely visible due to her bowed head."Please?" She whispered, even the voice was trembling slightly._

"_Whatever," grumbled Azula after a few seconds._

"_YAY!"_

"_NO HUGS!"_

_.*.*._

**9 January 2167**

Clara invited me to her birthday party. I couldn't say no because she is turning sixteen and apparently it is some kind of important event.

Whatever. I just hope they don't expect me to do something like this when I turn sixteen.

And now I also need to buy a good dress. Did I mention I hate shopping for clothes?

**28 January 2167**

I … Oh spirits I'm so tired I could sleep for a millennium. I went to Clara's party tod- no, yesterday. It has been yesterday for quite some time now, and I have to admit it has been kind of fun for a little while. Then alcohol popped up and everything – or better yet everyone – became annoying. People started drinking way too much – Clara included – and started doing whatever their alcohol addled minds believed to be a reasonable course of action.

Just to make an example a couple decided to get inside a huge inflatable filled with helium and started making out. Thankfully I noticed and sabotaged it, otherwise Clara could have discovered a couple of dead morons at the end of the party. Speaking of that klutz even she got into trouble, even if – to be fair – wasn't exactly her fault.

.*.*.

"_N-nooo, it's too early to go to bed! It's my party and I want to dance and drink and dance and drink,"said a voice with an obvious drunken slurring, even when heard trough a wooden door.. "I want to drance! Or danke?"_

_Before the other occupant of the room could respond, the door slammed open. Pieces of the metal lock slightly glowing in the dark and rapidly cooling off._

"_What the … "_

"_I believe," said Azula, "that you should leave her alone."_

"_Oh look, my heroic senpai," giggled Clara from the bed she was on. "Are you here to save me too?"_

"_I already told you, Senpai is not … " Whatever Azula was going to say, it was truncated by the boy roughly grabbing her shoulder. "Listen pipsqueak," he started to say while trying to push her out, his breath thick with alcohol. "Why don't you ..." Only to be rather decisively interrupted by Azula breaking one of his fingers._

_Not one to let the advantage go, Azula pressed on and kicked the older boy right in his family jewels, turning the beginning of his scream into pain filled whimpers as he crumpled on the floor._

"_Az-senpai?"_

"_Just a moment Clara," said Azula, staring right into the boy's eyes. "I have to make something clear with this one." Her glare hardened making the young man curled up on the floor whimper some more._

_.*.*._

End of the day however, it was nothing I couldn't handle and ignoring the last part it wasn't an unpleasant experience.

**1 February 2167**

Today Clara offered me a lift from the gym to my home on her new car. A gift from an old childhood friend of hers she said. I didn't refuse of course, but I did take the precautions of making her stop some distance away from my accommodations.

She seemed all right, and I am strangely relieved about that. Anyway I hope she manages to avoid any disaster with that thing.

Still calling me Senpai or Az-Senpai despite my protests that it is a japanese term and my name is not Az. She is stubborn almost to the point of being infuriating, but I will not give up.

**3 September 2167 **

Since I arrived here I have been spending as much time as possible catching up with the sciences and technology available, however today for the first time something else was at the forefront of my mind rather than the simple acquisition of knowledge.

It began with the news about the ban of certain types of genetic engineering and the various discussions around the law. Some saying it was the wrong decision, as most of mankind advances were born from attempts to push the boundaries, others saying that one should be careful when using advanced technology such as that.

It was then that it really hit me: how _we_ would look like in the eyes of the Alliance? Just the omnitool, an everyday object, is so far above anything we have it may as well be magic. Is this how the Fire Nation looks like to the other barbaric countries back home? An incredibly powerful nation, backed by marvels of science they barely understand?

I…

Time limit without input reached. Recording paused

Recording Stopped

**11 June 2168**

Happy birthday to me,

Happy birthday to me,

Happy Birthday dear Azula

Happy Birthday to me...

I miss them.

Stop recording.

**12 June 2168**

Clara and I just spent half an hour going trough every inch of her car looking for the present she said she bought for my birthday. She swore up and down that she put it inside this morning, I never saw her that upset. I said that it didn't matter and just the fact she thought about it was enough, and she calmed down a bit.

Apparently it was some kind of recurved knife with an ornate handle, nothing too fancy though. Maybe it was stolen? Nothing else was missing, but while Clara is a happy-go-lucky klutz she isn't air-headed and is quite smart. I guess I'll keep an eye out and see if the thief tries to get inside her car again.

**28 June 2168**

Today I caught someone trying to break in Clara's car. I gave chase but the slime-licker pulled a gun on me.

.*.*.

_Azula silently started to get closer to the figure bent over Clara's car, when the noise of the gym's door opening made the thief turn his head._

"_Hey! What are you doing!?"_

_Clara's shout startled the thief, who immediately stopped messing with the car's door and started running._

"_Damnit Clara!" muttered Azula to herself. She would have words with her about things called 'Surprise attack', 'Ambush' and how one shouldn't ruin the ones their allies are setting up after this. _

_The thief was fast, but Azula was faster and steadily shortened the distance between them. The thief, realizing this, dived into a back alley promptly followed by Azula a scant few seconds later._

_And ended up facing the business end of a pistol held in a tattooed hand. An holdout one from the looks of it her mind supplied._

_Reacting without conscious thought, Azula fell on her knees and bended backwards as much as she could, turning the full tilt run she was in into a power slide. As she was sliding forward she could have sworn to have felt the grain sized bullet's shockwave as it passed right above her face, the poorly aimed and hasty shot disappearing somewhere behind her._

_Sliding past the thief and not wanting to wait around for a second shot, Azula rolled behind the closest cover she could find and readied a fireball in her hand. If the shooter tried to press the advantage he would have discovered that she wasn't as unarmed as he thought she was. After a minute and no sign of him, Azula risked to peek behind her cover only to find no one inside the alley._

_With the danger gone and thief alongside it, Azula began walking back to the gym and Clara to relay the news. Leaving out the getting shot at part of course, no need to worry her for nothing after all._

_.*.*._

He used the time I was behind cover to ran away, but I think it is highly unlikely he will try anything like that again with Clara's car. I'll keep an eye out for a few more days, but I think I can safely say this story is well and truly done.

**30 August 2169**

"… And so checking in on John Doe's contacts proved to be a waste of time. Not one of them is good enough to provide a good enough I.D. at least not at the level I want and need it to go. I might actually need to find– "

Incoming Call. Caller ID: Spencer. Tagged as: Urgent.

_'Oh spirits, what does he want this time?' _She thought after glancing at the holographic screen on her desk.

"Pause recording"

Paused

Azula took a deep breath and tried to chase her annoyance away. Tearing apart one of Clara's friends because he was sleazy, lecherous …

_'Right. Deep breaths Azula, deep breaths.'_

"Put him on," she said turning to face the holographic screen.

Online.

"Hello Spencer, how are you?"

"Hi Azula. I'm fine thanks," the brown haired teen said. "Uhmm … Are you seated over there? Calm? Everything all right?"

"Yes, I'm seated and calm. Why?" _'And why are you trying to not look in my eyes?'_

"Sitting is good, calmness too. Can't hurt being calm and sitting down. People really should try to … "

"Get to the point Spencer."

"Yes, the point. Why I called you. A very important reason. I thought of being there in person," he kept rambling. "But then thought better and changed my mind."

"You are starting to irritate me, stop going in circles and _spit it out!_" her voice raising a bit to underscore the last three words. _'And thank you for not gracing me with your presence'_

"Clara is dead, killed by drug runners. Pleasedon'tkillme!"

It was several seconds before Azula managed to find her voice. "You do realize that I'm going to _really_ hurt you for making such a stupid prank, right?"

He visibly flinched at her venomous tone, but it didn't last long as he recovered quickly. "H-Hey! She was my friend too you know? You really think I would do something like that?" He raised his hand in front of the camera, as if to stop any reply. "No, don't answer that. You don't believe me? Fine. It's on the news now, channel 47."

_'He's angry. Really angry,'_ thought Azula before replying. "What does the news have anything to do with this vast amount of bull – "

"Do it. Turn on the TV."

"Fine, fine," relented Azula. "I'll turn it on. Then I'll track you down and put you into a world of hurt." With a few taps on the haptic interface of the viewscreen, she opened up the TV application and tuned it on the local news channel. "Just a friendly warning," she sarcastically told him, also using the occasion to make him flinch again with a glare.

The images showed an aircar crumpled on the ground, by her estimate it was unlikely anyone survived – or survived long for that matter – given the amount of damage it showed. Her attention was suddenly wrenched off the crashed vehicle when the on-site reporter suddenly mentioned the name of the victim.

"Pause and reverse. 30 seconds," Azula immediately ordered. She couldn't have heard right. It was impossible.

" … According to eyewitnesses the victim's car had just been flanked by another one when the occupants of the second car opened fire. The driver of the first vehicle – a young girl called Carla Christoff – was hit and lost control of her car, crashing it on the ground. Shortly after the paramedics arrived she was transported to the hospital where, unfortunately, she died due to the numerous injuries received. It is still unknown – "

Azula's mind did something terrible: It completely and utterly emptied itself. All sounds simply didn't register, as if they were even less than background noise, the eyes unfocused and looking at nothing. Nearly half a minute had to pass before she was able to work past the initial shock.

_'What.'_

"What."

"I'm – I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I wanted you to hear it from a friendlier face, but … " Azula was utterly oblivious to whatever Spencer was saying, her attention fully devoted to the part of the viewscreen showing the news channel.

"The police so far did not release any information about this most recent act of violence," continued the journalist. "However indiscretions says a package of Red Sand was found inside the car, perhaps the motivation behind the … "

"WHAT?!"

"Uh, yeah. There is that too."

"That's preposterous!" said Azula nearly shaking with rage. _'How dare they. How dare they!' _"HOW DARE THEY!"

"Woah!" taken aback by her outburst he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down, ok? Maybe they are wrong, or maybe … " Spencer trailed off, and then fell silent.

"'Maybe'. What. Spencer?" Growled Azula.

"Maybe we didn't know her enough." He said in a low voice.

A few seconds of silence passed before Azula answered in a utterly calm and toneless voice."What do you mean by that?"

He looked at her like she had just grown a few more heads while he wasn't looking."Haven't you heard the news?!" Spencer said in an incredulous tone of voice. "She was … "

"Yes! I have heard the news!" heat once again present in her voice. "And I would sooner believe the moon is made of cheese and the clouds made of cotton candy than _that_!"

"Really?" Her questioner said in a disbelieving tone. "Don't you think … "

"This conversation is over," interrupted Azula in a casual tone. "Call me again and I'll remove your kneecaps with a grinder machine." With a swipe of her hand Azula terminated the connection, removing the stunned face of Spencer from the viewscreen. She stared at the monitor for a few more seconds before she started pounding the desk with increasing strength. Fury and pain were rising inside her, with the latter fuelling the former. As strange as it might have sounded to her just a few years ago, she came to care for the klutzy girl – spirits only knew why. But now she was dead and she was feeling her grip on those emotions slipping more and more.

Incoming Call. Caller ID: Spencer. Tagged as: Urgent.

Whatever slim control she still had, disappeared. With scream of pure rage Azula grabbed the wooden desk with both hands and threw it all the way across the room, shattering many of the objects on it and severely damaging the desk itself. The thrown furniture barely had the time to land on the floor that a stream of blue fire hit it, incinerating the parts the flames touched. Her fury and fire spared nearly nothing inside the room. By the end of it even the walls were damaged and a few objects so deformed by the heat to be completely unrecognizable.

Azula sat on the floor in the middle of the destroyed room; her emotions once again under her control.

_'She is dead,_' she thought, and while the admission did bring pain and anger it wasn't as overwhelming as before. Her hands curled into fists, but this time there was purpose behind her every movement. Someone used Clara to his or her own ends and she died for it, even tainting her memory by associating her with drug trafficking.

_'I will find them, Clara. I will find them and make them pay. I promise.'_ She even had a lead: the gang member that tried to steal from Clara's car. Faint and quite probably a very long shot, but it was the only thing she had. Worst case scenario there would have been one less scumbag on the face of the planet, not something she would lose any sleep over it.

She would pay him a visit.

.*.

Tracking him down had been a rather a little time consuming but easy task, keeping known meeting points of the gang under surveillance using web-cameras and old fashioned binoculars did the trick. Unless he was dead or in another city entirely, she would have found him. And found him she did: Jeremy Jenson, nineteen, member of the Crossed Snakes gang, holder of a curved knife with an ornate handle and a ring at the end of it. Currently in trouble. Azula smiled a little at the sight of the person tied on a metal chair, bag on the head and fiercely struggling for freedom.

In a _huge_ amount of trouble.

Snagging him had been the simple part. A kick to the solar plexus quickly removed any thought of fighting back from the young man, but Azula went a step further and tasered him too. After that, securing and stuffing him the stolen car's trunk had been a rather easy task. And now here he was: naked and tied to a suspended metal chair.

"Hello Jeremy."

"Who–? You son of a bitch, get me out of this thing! Do you have any idea who you are pissing off?! I'm … " A rather vicious punch from Azula quite handily interrupted Jeremy's monologue.

"I know who you are and what you are, Jeremy. Could you please don't waste my time with pointless posturing? I have you at my mercy and there are better question you could make."

"What do you want?" Jeremy spat out after a few seconds. Azula did not need to see his face to recognize he was not yet feeling fear, the anger and his arrogance were clear in his voice, even when muffled by the bag.

"Now that is a much better question, Jeremy. Can I call you Jeremy?"

"Can you suck my big fat co–" Again a punch stopped the young man from finishing the phrase, this time with enough strength behind it to send the chair wildly careening around.

"That was stupid of you, Jeremy."

"Get fucked by a hor–"

"Very very stupid," interrupted again Azula in the same way.

"You think this is the first beating I got? Go ahead, do your worse you dumb motherfucker. I won't talk."

"Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy," said Azula using her best disappointed tone, not that it mattered much with the voice synthesizer she was using. "Worms like you should really learn when to shut up. You are asking for the worse? Very well." She leaned forward and whispered the last part in his ear. "Y_ou'll have it._"

Azula started using a crank mechanism to further lift the chair, then she slipped under it a box from which angry hissing and mewling could be heard.

"What's this," spoke Jeremy. "Talk or the kittens get it?"

"Something like that," replied Azula before carefully dumping over him the contents of a bucket.

"What the fuck?!"

"Oh don't worry Jeremy, it's just pig's blood."

"Pig's what?!"

"Pig's blood," repeated Azula. "It's to make you more appetizing, think of it as some kind of sauce."

"WHAT?!"

"What did you say before? Talk or the kitties get it? You were more right than you knew. I spent quite some time catching and properly starving all these cats." With the prisoner completely drenched in pig's blood, Azula dropped the bucket and removed the top of the box. The felines inside, driven into a frenzy by the scent of the blood, now could be heard clearly. "Let me tell you, finding the proper balance between making them hungry enough that they won't care what kind of meat they eat, and not making them too weak to actually eat you, it's harder than it may sound."

"What."

"Talk," she said in a stage whisper "Or the kitties get you."

"YOU ARE INSANE!"

"So you admit I'm capable of doing it?"

"THIS IS IMP–" Once again he was interrupted by a sudden and intense amount of pain, only this time it was on his foot and felt less like punch and more like claws.

"Oohh look at him! Look at the jump he made!" cooed Azula. "The first to get his prize. Good kitty!"

"MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A–" Screams once more replaced Jeremy's words, as he felt something bite into the soft underside of his foot and tear off a chunk of flesh.

"Here lies Jeremy Jenson, eaten alive by a swarm of household pets," continued Azula. "You know what? I think you should go for it, it's a really funny headstone epitaph." That said Azula once again started using the crank mechanism and begun lowering the chair into the box.

"NO! NO! NO! WAIT! I'LL – AH! FUCK!"

"You what, Jeremy?"

"TALK! TALK!"

"Smart boy." Smirked Azula.

.*.

And so he did. After dumping some pieces of meat inside the crate to sate the hunger of the famished felines, he answered to everything Azula asked and more just to be on the safe side. At the end she let him go and ordered him to leave the city or he would have finished feeding the cat. He ran so fast he even forgot to apply the medigel on his wound. Having the very same cat that took a bite out of him on her lap as she fed it some meat, might have helped with his decision to postpone medical care to a later date.

With Jeremy's information she now had a clear enough idea of the situation that she could fill in the blanks herself. Someone had the bright idea of using ordinary people with no link to the gang to act as unknowing drug couriers. Put the package inside an hidden compartment, wait for the person carrying it to reach his or her destination, a place the victim went to regularly – the home, where they worked, or in Clara's case: the gym – take the package and make it look like a theft if caught, so even if someone witnessed that 'drug trafficking' would not be on their mind.

To do all that however it required two things: The keys and a good mechanic. A good thing about being friends with a friendly and chatty person is that they have a tendency to tell you nearly everything they have done. Or happened to them. Her aircar required a mechanic in two different occasions, and only in one it was bad enough that a stay in at the shop was required.

"What do you say Dexter?" she spoke to the purring cat in her lap. "It seems I have some breaking and entering to do." The newly christened Dexter only purred more as she stroked his silvery-blue fur. "But I guess I have no choice, not if I want to find out who killed her and why." She grabbed Dexter as she stood up and looked back at the box containing the cats she captured. "I should call the local Animal Shelter too I guess."

.*.

The mission went quite smoothly, she was not caught and there was quite a lot of encrypted data to go through. It had been done with commercial software of rather high quality, but thanks to her – or more accurately, John Doe's – contacts and so much money it left her almost broke, she now was the proud owner of an outdated military-grade encryption-decryption program. Nowhere near top of the line, but still more advanced than nearly everything available on the civilian market.

With luck it would decode the computer memory core and the datapads, before they finished investigating the fire and discovered something was missing. Azula leaned back on the chair and closed her eyes, now all she had to do was wait.

.*.*.

_Getting inside the workshop had been easier than she feared and worse than she hoped. The relatively low security – being just a machine shop all things considered – and John Doe's equipment offsetting her relative inexperience, even if not by much. The skylight window had a pressure sensor on the frame, so if someone carelessly opened it would have triggered the alarm. Some omnigel to make a physical bypass neutralized the alarm, allowing a quick and easy access to the building itself. And more importantly to the box relaying the camera's feeds back to an external data storage._

_If she wanted her actions to remain unknown – at least for a little – she needed to deal with the camera in an non-obvious manner, luckily she had the right tool for that: it was an interesting gadget in John Doe's possession, a small pincer that – when applied correctly – would hijack the data sent through cables and store it in its own memory unit, allowing the user to modify the information stored if and as he or she wished. _

_And when it was ready to be sent through it would block the normal feed, transmitting it's own instead. Obviously this came with two evident drawbacks, especially for a now obsolete model: It left a physical mark on the cables themselves and it created a sometimes noticeable – depending on the quantity of data copied – lag issue. An unfortunate situation for sure, but something Azula was perfectly fine with. _

_After applying the device she waited a suitable amount of time and after a few minor corrections, she activated the device and rappelled down on the floor. She quickly found the main office and went to work disassembling the computer present there, rapidly extracting the main data storage unit and replacing it with a new one. After putting away the stolen computer part she activated her omnitool, which begun projecting an orange light as she begun to scan for hidden compartments._

_Of course she really did not expect to find any – not with the limited experience with this equipment she had – but it was worth a try. After all she did not really believe that anyone would leave something incriminating around in the open. As soon as the scan was finished – with negative results as she expected – she glanced at the clock to check how much time she had left before the doctored data from the camera ran out, she had something in mind that might help in finding any hidden compartment. With practised ease, she focused her mind, touched the floor and started spreading some heat. If there was a "cold" empty spot, that was probably where an hidden compartment was. _

_Luck was on her side, within a few minutes a suspicious spot was found and revealed itself to be an old small safe. Of course she couldn't exactly extract it like she did with the computer data core, but the relatively simple lock revealed itself to be an easy obstacle to overcome. Soon the contents were exchanged with some decoys and the originals found their way inside the same bag with the data storage unit. _

_She did not need to check the clock to know that time was running out, and begun running back to the garage. Once inside the workshop area however an idea to further cover her tracks struck Azula's mind: she was in a building filled with electrical equipment and combustible substances, sparking a fire to muddle things up even more shouldn't be that hard._

_Working fast she knocked on the ground a few things that looked flammable, spilling the contents on the ground, and threw on top of it a cable she ruined to expose the wiring. Once the charade was complete, she climbed back up to the roof, and launched a well-placed fireball to start the conflagration. To make sure the flames destroyed as much evidence as they could, she circled back after a bit – mingling among the curious watching the firemen containing the fire – and stayed only long enough to manipulate the bonfire, making certain her traces had been erased._

_.*.*._

Decryption Complete.

The computer voice startled Azula into wakefulness, she stared bleary-eyed at the viewscreen for a few seconds before the meaning of those words truly sank in and kicked her brain into overdrive. The occasion of finally perusing the data, of being one step closer to exacting her just revenge on whoever killed Clara, drove all leftover sleepiness away.

_'Ok, let's see what you've got.'_

The files inside the office computer held nothing particularly incriminating. Suspicious? Definitely, since some of the clients that used his services were marked. The rest was just related to his "day job" so to speak: parts needed to be acquired, workers turns and stuff like that, everything using some kind of technical jargon. The actually interesting bits were in the datapads she found in the safe.

Secret accounts were she deposited money she was paid to make her expertise available, more than few ways to contact people dealing in … shady businesses, and what Azula could only classify as blackmail or as a bargaining chip or both. Photos, videos and registrations of every single illegal business deal she ever made, along with a plethora of other information she must have uncovered using other ways. Azula couldn't help but laugh out of loud at the discovery. Her quarry was there, all she had to do was go over every single file and he or she would have been hers.

Again luck seemed to be on her side, and indeed within a few minutes a very interesting video started playing out.

"_So, we are alone and you checked out, what's your proposition boy?" _The owner of the voice could not be seen, probably the proprietor of the shop considering her words.

"_Hey!" a_nother voice outside the field said._ "Don't disres –"_

"_Jeremy." _The name was spoken firmly and without raising the voice, yet it stopped the other one right in his tracks. He turned slightly to look at Jeremy to better convey the message. _"Stop." _The "Or else" went unsaid but was perfectly heard.

"_Sorry Colin, you are the boss."_

"_Exactly," t_he boy called Colin said. _"Don't forget that."_ The freckled face turned back towards the machine shop owner, crossing his arms as if he was trying to look more intimidating. However that movement also uncovered his forearms, revealing a familiar set of tattoos. A very familiar set in fact.

Azula barely listened to the rest of the video, as they slowly came to an agreement over something she already figured out. Her attention was fully focused on the this "Colin" person, engraving in her mind every single millimetre of his face.

"Hello Colin," Azula whispered. "We finally meet." She wanted to go out right now, find this Colin and introduce him to her firebending; but the more cold and analytical part of her stopped that line of thought. Better if she saw the rest of the files and then made a plan to properly consign him to his rightful … _reward_.

As she continued examining the contents however, a question slowly wormed its way to the forefront of her mind. Yes, she had what she went for, but there was so much information that she hated the thought of not using it. She would get her revenge sure, but what _after_? It's not like she could just turn all this over to the pol–

_'And why not?'_ Was the sudden treacherous thought. _'Why not use all this for the purpose it was intended for?A bargaining chip to obtain something in return AND get my revenge in the same stroke?'_

The idea was intriguing, and she would be lying if the challenge it offered did not enthuse her to it. Slowly, hesitantly, Azula closed the window showing the contents of the datapads. She had some background checks to do.

.*.

**A few weeks later**

Incoming Call. Caller ID: Unknown. Tagged as: Urgent.

"Wharrgarbl." Wharrgarbled a voice from under thick layer of blankets.

Unable to comply. Command not listed.

More incomprehensible muttering could be heard from under the blankets, before a more understandable "Hold." was heard.

Holding.

Slowly a female figure disentangled itself from the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed she was laying on.

_'Whoever this is, it better be very very good.' _"Okay, put …. whoever on."

Online.

The holographic screen turned on, illuminating the room, but instead of a face it displayed an error signal. Before she could even speak, an artificial sounding voice immediately started talking "Hello, you should check you mail."

_'Wha..?' _Before she could even formulate a response the connection was cut, leaving the woman in the darkness. _'Sure Dana, do what the creepy fucker told you to do, seems legit,' _Danasnorted in derision. "Call Gordon-Work."

Calling... Online.

"Hi Gordon," she said to the balding man on the screen. "How is it going?"

"Dana? I'm fine thank you, but why are you calling? Didn't you take a couple of days off?"

"Yes, but I need a favour. Some creep called me and told to check my mail, it's probably nothing but could you see if you can trace the call?"

"It would be against regulations," Said the man. "But what the hell? I owe you, so I'll do it anyway."

"Thank you Gordon, you are the best."

"Don't you forget it," he answered smiling.

Shortly after the call ended Dana went to her computer, checked her mail and downloaded the attached file. "All right mystery man," she muttered to herself. "Let's what you sent me."

As the video played, she could feel her eyebrows rising all the way up to her hairline. It wasn't dynamite, but if it checked out it would deal a good blow to the criminal underworld. _'Why though? It's not because …'_ Dana looked the sender ID. _' … Arcee is a good Samaritan – no need for this charade if that was the case – and he or she is certainly not using this for blackmail.'_ She nodded to herself, her mind coming to the obvious solution: Someone wanted to "buy" something from her and sent this little morsel forward as a bait and sign of good will.

_'Well,' _She thought. _'If whoever this is, keeps delivering stuff as good as this, I don't think there will be many problems doing that.'_ She glanced at the mail; this Arcee wanted a reply and given her rank in the police department she was perfectly within her powers to establish a contact without immediate approval from her superiors.

She immediately began writing her response.

.*.

Azula entered an Extranet bar she had chosen at random, and sat in an empty seat. A few credits in hard currency granted her access to the machine and its connection. All these precautions seemed silly to her back at her house, but now that she was actually doing this she couldn't help but feel a bit nervous and thankful for the forethought.

Idly scratching her fake beard, she checked the mail account she made only for the reason of contacting the police officer and couldn't stop from smiling.

.

From: Siegfried

To: Arcee

Re: Interested?

Yes, what do you want.

_'Soon Colin.' _her smile changing into a feral grin. _'So very soon.'_

_.*._

**1 October 2170**

Colin woke up at the sound of someone banging on a door. It was difficult to concentrate on the sound – or on anything else for that matter – he felt like the morning after a colossal drinking binge for some reason, but he only drank a couple of glasses before going … home? A flush of adrenaline helped him focus more, as he realized that this _wasn't his home_.

He jumped to his feet only to stagger a bit from the sudden movement, and leaned on the wall for support. It was then that he noticed the smell of smoke, something was burning. Looking up from down the stairs it quickly became obvious what was on fire.

The house he was _in_.

With a panic driven strength he leapt from the wall he was leaning on and ran towards what looked like was the main entrance, guided there by another set of louder knocks by the mysterious visitor. Colin slammed the door open and tried to run, heedless of the rather tall woman right on the doorstep. A few moments later his face was once again kissing the floor with no idea of how he got there.

"That's not the way to greet a lady you know?" spoke the woman. "You should learn some manners."

"The 'ous' … Fire." the new sudden impact with the planet did no favour to his headache and it had been difficult enough just to spit out those three words. The woman reappeared in his field of vision some time later with a grim expression on her face, hopefully the bitch broke a nail.

"I really hope you have a good lawyer kid, murder is not something that can be overlooked because of your young age."

What?

.*.

Dana was annoyed. She went to this house on the word of her informant, 'Arcee', to acquire some new vital information on an old case, but so far it hasn't been a smooth deal like before: like e-mails or dead drops for more sensitive information. First it looked like the occupant was absent, then this strangely smelling young man almost ran her over and now apparently the house was on fire. A quick peek inside confirmed that and armed with the fire extinguisher she had in her car, she went inside to see if there was anyone else still stuck inside.

The fire didn't spread particularly far – it was more smoke than actual fire, with a bed being the biggest conflagration – so Dana was able to quickly extinguish it. It was only after the smoke from the fire extinguisher dissipated that the body could be seen. It was badly burned and thus impossible to recognize without an autopsy exam, but that was not the point. The point was that someone died and this milk run just became an incredibly complicated mess.

She went out again and found the boy … no. _'The young man' _she told herself, still on the ground and massaging the temples only to look up and glare – or at least attempting to – when he heard her coming.

"I really hope you have a good lawyer kid, murder is not something that can be overlooked because of your young age." And he really was in a gigantic heap of trouble. Programs existed to help young people like him to get out of the overcrowded slums they lived in, the petty crimes committed during that first period of life basically washed away. But not for murder.

Dana waited patiently for him to work trough her words, she needed to see his reaction. In his state the reaction he would have could tell her a lot. And tell her it did: First his eyes widened so much she actually believed they would pop out, his mouth opened slightly and he became even more pale than he was.

"I in't u it! I in't u it!"

Well, that sounded like a denial and unless he was a grade A+ actor that was genuine surprise and rather understandable fear.

"That" Dana said. "Is something the investigation will determine."

.*.

And apparently he really did it.

At least the report on the evidence found said that. His clothes were saturated with the same combustible used to start the fire, apparently he tripped on his way down the stairs – A faulty step on the stair was apparently responsible for that fortuitous accident – dropping the container with the flammable liquid he used, and knocking himself unconscious at the same time. '_The trauma interfering with the correct formation of the memories'_ Fancy words to say that what knocked him unconscious also gave him retrograde amnesia. Getting hit in the head _again_ so soon also didn't help things.

End of the day? Between him squealing like a pig about every single criminal/gang he knew or heard of, the medically proven amnesia, and a decent lawyer he should be able to avoid the worst. Still it will not be a nice stroll in the park, especially for a teenager like him, but it surely was better than life imprisonment.

"You have mail"

'_Who the hell send messages … '_

_._

From: Arcee

To: Siegfried

We need to meet.

_._

_'Damn straight we need to meet,'_ Was the angry thought going through Dana's mind as she typed the response.

"When?"

The ringing of her entryphone and the mail-notification system from her computer mixed themselves into one sound.

"Now."

Dana stared at the message displayed for a couple of seconds; the timing was either spot on – and very creepy – or a really incredible coincidence. She pushed the viewscreen button and the image of a teenager girl appeared on the monitor.

"Hello," the girl said. "I'm Arcee, we need to talk."

Let's upgrade from creepy to unnerving.

.*.

"So" Dana passed some juice to her new guest – the only non alcoholic drink she had that wasn't coffee – while she took some coffee for herself. "We finally meet face to face."

"It was necessary," was Arcee's short reply.

"Really now?"

"Yes. I'm here to cash in the favour."

Dana hid her surprise by taking a sip. The nature of their relationship was based on a barter of some kind, 'Arcee' provided information – sometimes random, sometimes pertinent to a case – and in exchange of that she would get a favour. An anomaly as far as most informants were concerned, money – and sometimes more information – was the usual payment.

"Before we go anywhere near that." Dana said using her most serious tone. "There is something else we need to talk about."

Arcee – or whatever her real name was – simply looked back at her saying nothing.

_'A real poker player this one.'_ Dana thought. _'And those golden eyes could be really unnerving to many other people.'_

"The latest delivery turned out to be a bit more … problematic than usual. Care to explain why?"

"Did the man refuse to hand you over the package?" Said the girl frowning.

"He refused to be alive."

"Ah."

.*.*.

_Getting her "housemate" John Doe from his freezer had been a more difficult task than she thought. She had to be careful not to damage the body too much, or not even her plan to manipulate the fire to destroy all evidence of when he died would work, complicating everything way more than necessary._

_.*.*._

She had to give it to the girl, she hid her surprise quite well. Barely blinked at the revelation and if she wasn't paying attention she would have missed even that. "I hope you had nothing to do about that."

.*.*.

_She had already seen this Colin when she was hunting for dear old Jeremy. At the time – focused as she was on her quarry – she didn't pay him any mind beyond making a note about his presence. However now that she took the time to truly observe him, it was easy to spot the deference shown to him and the two bodyguards that followed him everywhere. No driver though._

_A very poor decision._

_With the aircar unattended putting a gps tracker on it was a child's play, allowing her to track and document all his stops. With the complete knowledge of his schedule, slipping him a date rape drug at the right moment – when he usually went back home – and abduct him while still under its influence was an even easier task._

_.*.*._

"Of course not," answered Azula without missing a beat. "I had no reason to kill him."

_'Does that mean that you would have done it if you had one?' _Thought Dana, but chose to not express it.

"He was supposed to hand you over a memory core with some data concerning the activities of a gang: it went from hidden accounts, money laundering and other things like that, to personal records and E-mails. I commissioned its theft and he was the man that carried it out. If I were to venture a guess I'd say they killed him and retrieved the data or attempted to do so."

Dana didn't hide her frown at this. "How something like that would have helped with my case? It's a murder one, not … "

"It also contained correspondence pertaining a case you once worked on," interrupted Azula. "Data that would have proven the innocence of the victim. She was unaware of the red sand trafficking."

_'Red sand trafficking, female, probably dead and happened not too long ago' _Of the many cases she worked only an handful met the criteria, and of those only one did not fit the profile."Did you know her?" Said Dana after a few seconds of contemplation.

"Saw her once or twice," Azula lied smoothly. "At one time I saw someone trying to get inside her car, but a couple of days later she denied anything was stolen from her when I asked. After the murder I dug a little and found out they hid the packages inside the vehicle and even had a copy of the key. What better courier than one that doesn't even know what they are actually doing?"

"Ingenious," Dana grunted. "If someone saw that, they would think 'thief' not drug running. Not for big packages though, probably only for local suppliers."

"That was my hypothesis too," nodded Azula. "Now if your curiosity is satisfied...?"

"Just one last thing, why this delivery was done differently from the others?"

"Not my choice," shrugged Azula. "I was given an expiration date from Mr. Doe, and I was not able to make it in time. I was out of the city for security reasons."

"Well, that should be everything. So, what is this famous favour of yours then?"

"I want out."

Dana looked quizzically at the young girl, that answer said everything and nothing at the same time. "You do know that programs like that already exist, right?"

"Yes, I know. But I want more than that, I want a blank slate with a new name and a new beginning. And more importantly, I want to join the System Alliance."

Dana's eyes narrowed at that, it didn't take genius to see the suspicion rise its head in her eyes. "Kid, if you have done something _that_ bad … "

"Nothing of the sort," said Azula. "But my activities as your informant may have … no, I'm sure they _have_ created many enemies. A new identity should be enough to throw off anyone wanting to find me, as I did not leave behind many loose ends."

"Understandable I guess," grumbled Dana. "Ok, you have a deal. I'll call a couple of people and see what I can do, but I can't do anything with the Alliance. You are on your own with them."

"Acceptable and … understandable."

"Before I start this," asked Dana. "Do you have any preferences for the new identity?"

"The name if possible. I want it to be Azula, Azula Shepard."

The older woman looked at her quizzically "Why Shepard? Isn't that the same fake name of the thief you hired?"

"Yes, I liked it. Why?"

"Nothing, just curiosity," Dana said. "I'll contact you as soon the paperwork is done. Until then stay safe Ms. Shepard."

"You can call me Azula," she said with small smile.


	4. Chapter 2 Part 1

Here you go. Part 1 of a rather meaty chapter. I hope you enjoy it! *dives in a bunker*

:::::

_**Excerpt taken from the personal files of Sgt. Max K. Hardberger.**_

… _talented and she knows it. Normally I would be quite excited about it, but she likes to subtly rub her "superiority" everyone's faces. The fact that she can actually walk the talk, only makes the entire situation even more insufferable for the people she is platooned with. And if anyone manages to get ahead of her in any of the fields she took an interest in, you can bet your as… house that she will push herself even harder to catch up AND surpass him or her._

_She probably thinks of herself as some kind of God's gift to mankind, but apparently God is not amused: I am here too, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve on how to deal with people like her. Fair is fair however: as talented and prideful as she is, she certainly does not like to rest on her laurels. Hell, she should rest more on her laurels!_

**Vetus System, SSV Montecassino 2176**

"... What is wrong with you?!"

Azula could barely contain her smile. Everything was going according to plan. "They are waiting, waiting to see how our own squabble will end."

"What?!"

"Have you ever studied Earth's ancient history?" asked Azula. "The history of the Roman Empire to be precise."

"What that has to do with this … treason!?"

"The Praetorian Guard," she continued, seemingly ignoring the question. "Was supposed to be a force of loyal bodyguards protecting the Emperor, elite soldiers dedicated to their duty. However as time marched on, things changed; it reached a point when _them_ and not the Senate – or anyone else for that matter – wezxxre the one deciding who would become Emperor. The throne was sold to the highest bidder by the Praetorian Guard like a common item."

Azula paused for a moment, seeing how everyone present paid close attention to her words. "What do you think it's going on here?" she continued. "Do you think you can match my price?" She reclined on her seat and steepled her fingers together. "Well?"

"Ok, now roll for intimidation," said the man she was talking to.

"With pleasure," a deft stroke on the haptic panel in front of her started the dice roller program, the eyes of everyone around the table – and even a couple of bystanders – were glued to the result screen.

"Damn," one of the players murmured when the dice rolls appeared on it. "Thirteen successes out of fifteen rolls."

"What can I say? The spirits favour me today," replied Azula with a hint of smugness, ignoring the few angry mutters that followed her statement.

"Okay, okay settle down," the game master said. "The secret police chief is obviously sweating and looks at you fearfully for a moment, before kneeling in front of you, 'You've beaten me at my own game,' he says."

"Don't flatter yourself," Azula answered, remaining in character. "You were never even a player."

"A fourth wall joke? Really? I … "

"Attention all hands, attention all hands," almost everyone in the mess room went silent as the loudspeakers activated. "We will reach Elysium in forty-five minutes. Those with permission to disembark must return to the ship within forty-eight hours," the silence was broken by the loud cheering, almost covering up the second part of the announcement.

"You are one of those able to leave the ship, right?" asked the game master. "Then go prepare, we can finish next time," he continued after her nod.

"Hey Shepard!" a female occupant of a nearby table called loudly. "You going to catch some birds down there?"

"I don't know," Azula replied over the raucous laugh the comment provoked from some of the crew members. "Are you going to stop being a myopic small-minded tainted spawn of a syphilitic swamp hog?"

Azula did not wait for the woman to finish puzzling out what she said, she had better things to do than pay attention to some racist moron. Like collecting what she needed to bring with her for her training excursion and renting a suitable vehicle.

**Outskirts of Illyria.**

Azula sat cross-legged on the snowy ground, slowly exhaling and inhaling as she meditated under the sun of the Elysium colony, her armour keeping the cold at bay. She still remembered the first time she traveled with a starship and landed on an alien planet with an alien sun: a faint sensation of something dimming when traveling and something returning as something slightly different when finally inside the new solar system.

Of course she did not notice the differences right away, but only with time and experience. Like a gourmet would not be able learn how to differentiate all the various flavours of a dish at the beginning of the career.

Azula snorted at the thought. Did she really just compare firebending to a dinner?

"Okay Azula, stop daydreaming and get back to work." Rising smoothly from her seating position she assumed the stance she was trying out and activated the omnitool's recorder.

"Lightning bending test number 147, I'm attempting to manipulate chi to the point of giving it a positive and negative polarity. In this test I am also adding a rotatory movement with both arms, as just keeping still _and_ apart proved to be impossible; the hypothesis is that it may help with the polarization of the chi." Azula drew a deep breath, trying her best to calm her mind. "Commencing test."

Azula raised her arms parallel to the ground and started to move them in a circle, hoping to produce the lightning that would have finally marked her as a master firebender; but that hope was crushed again by the small explosion she produced, sending her sprawling on the ground.

"DAMN IT!"

She rose from ground into a sitting position, brushing some of the smaller rocks that hit her off the armour, and glared at the smoking crater she had just made. Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes and began meditating, trying to ease her anger enough to make another attempt.

She knew a composed mind was necessary – after all, lightning was also called "the cold blooded fire". Unfortunately – without a master to teach her – she had to figure out all the other necessary steps on her own, sometimes using what she had learned here to fill in the gaps in her knowledge.

For example, she had gotten the idea of positive and negative chi from reading about natural lightning; and since firebending drew power from that and other natural phenomena, it seemed logical to apply the same concept to lightning bending. Her problem now was that she did not know _how_ to properly do any of that, a difficult task that she was starting to find quite annoying.

Even the idea to move the arms in a circular motion had come from her research in the field of electric generation. The simplest generators were coils rotating inside a magnetic field, and it was her hope that the same concept could be applied to lightning bending.

A derisive chuckle escaped her. Here she was, using science to develop her – as the locals would call it – magical kung fu skills. If the situation wasn't so frustrating she could even have found it amusing.

"Okay, no more wool gathering Azula," she muttered. "Focus."

She took another deep breath and tried again, quelling her emotions, caging stray thoughts, progressively ignoring all the sounds around her and … there was something at the edge of her awareness; it was familiar and managed to set her on edge too. It wasn't a smell - a quick sniff confirming that – and it wasn't a sound exactly, it felt more like … a vibration. From the ground.

A very small regular tremor, nearly undetectable through the armour plating. A very familiar type of tremor too. She felt a similar one years back when she was training on some moon during a mock low-gravity battle: she was a member of the defender team, and during the exercise some obsolete ground-to-orbit guns fired a few times. While the moon was airless - making those guns eerily silent – she never forgot how the earth shook when those massive cannons fired. Now she was feeling that same sensation, even if it was fainter due to the distance.

The colony's defence guns were firing. Somebody was attacking the colony.

Quickly she ran back to her rented air car and turned on the radio. The one she had on her armour was too weak to receive anything, but the one on the car was powerful enough to … She stifled a curse as no matter how much she fiddled with the controls, she could hear only static. For the GTO guns to start firing it would mean that the Montecassino was either dead along with the orbital defences or retreating; which in the end meant the same thing as far as everyone on the planet was concerned.

Not only that, but this was a major colony. No way a random pirate raid could achieve this level of success, and she had only her knife with her to fight her way to a friendly unit.

"Just what any soldier needs fresh in the morning," she muttered as she opened up the car's survival gear box. "A pirate raid." She rummaged for bit - taking all the useful gear she could put on her person - and then climbed in the car. _'Hopefully,'_ she thought. _'They won't make landfall soon.'_

.*.

_'I should really learn to stop thinking things like that.'_ Azula thought as with a wild manoeuvre she dodged another burst of machine-gun fire from the gunship tailing her. Not a few minutes after she reached the city and tried to arrive at the closest police station - or anywhere people would begin organizing the defence, she wasn't that picky – a gunship appeared and tried to shoot her down. Her paranoia – should she call it that if she was right? - reacting immediately when something tickled at the edge of her perception, was the only reason she has been not riddled with bullets right then and there.

However she was still in a civilian car and her pursuer was still in a gunship, if she kept flying she was dead. The problem being that even if she stopped the gunship was still hot on her tail, and on foot she would be an easy target.

Right on cue the air car frame shook violently, and a myriad of red warning signals appeared on the holographic console. The quick cursory glance she gave it while wrestling her control back, revealed that while a lot of systems had been compromised it wasn't anything immediately vital. She still had full mobility and could still buy some time to find a way to escape.

But how? She could not exactly … An idea flashed in her mind. Something crazy, but probably crazy enough to work. She hastily located a good enough target and dived against the front of the building.

.*.*.

"HOLY SHIT! Did you see that?!" A human in rather colourful armour shouted.

"No, Sam. I did not," sarcastically answered the gravely voice of a batarian.

"Aw man. How could you have missed that? You have four eyes! And I'm not talking about glasses."

The batarian simply glared at the human with all his four eyes, trying with all his might to burn a few holes through the helmet and wipe that smug expression he knew was there. The human enjoyed getting a rise out of him way too much for his tastes.

"Satil Three, picking anything on the scanners?" Kell asked the pilot on the radio, cutting off the brewing fight.

"Nothing sarge," the voice of the pilot crackled on the radio. "No active eezo and the fires from the crash are playing merry hell on the thermal. Guess you have to do this the old fashioned way."

"Perfect," muttered Kell. "This is getting better and better," she allowed herself an annoyed sigh before starting to address her soldiers. "Okay, listen up! Satil Three scanners can't pinpoint where the target is, so this is going to be done manually. Same as before: you two," she pointed her finger at Ethan and Malius. "Stay on the lower floors, make sure the target does not try to slip away. ," her flanges opened up a bit in the turian version of a grin as she unfolded a shotgun. "We are going hunting."

"What? Why boss? Dude's dead. No way he survived that crash," a distressingly familiar voice spoke, standing out among the chorus of acknowledgements.

"Because I told you so, because Marlok said to take out and then investigate anything out of the ordinary, because if you don't I'll tie you to the gunship and see what breaks first: your head or the buildings," the turian looked straight at the human, daring him to do anything but obey. "You are still not checking your equipment."

"Yes Kell ma'am," muttered the cowed Sam.

"We are dropping in two," the squad leader continued, without missing a beat. "Ethan, Malius, you two cover the lower floors. Sam, Balram you two are with me. I didn't like the way the crash happened, so keep your eyes open and don't do anything stupid."

The gunship circled around the ruined building - searching for a good landing spot – before finally settling on a small patch of road not entirely covered in debris, and begun hovering just slightly above ground. Right on cue, five armoured figures jumped down from the crew compartment and started running towards the building; at the same time the gunship gunned it's engines and took off again, disappearing behind it before they even reached the entrance.

Without losing any more time the pirates split up, and started quietly climbing the stairs. "So, why a 'he'?"

The other two froze at the sound of that voice echoing down the empty corridor and both turned to stare incredulously at the human. "What? What did I say?"

Stifling a curse the turian ignored the human. "Balram . Rearguard position," she ignored the grunt of acknowledgement from the batarian and whirled to face Sam. "And _you_," she said injecting as much loathing and venom as she could in that word. "I want silent and in the middle. Am. I. _Clear?"_ No way she was going to have _this_ guy guarding their six.

"Yes boss," he mulishly acknowledged. "As you say." Refraining from commenting about how long that would last, Kell resumed her march. And indeed just a couple of minutes later he spoke again. "Boss."

Having just enough of him, she turned around ready to either shoot him and be done with it or go through with her promise of tying him up to the gunship. Then she noticed that Barlam wasn't there with them.

Sam was already scanning the corridor for any sign of the Batarian or of the enemy, and Kell joined him a moment later. "Sam, move ahead to the corner," she whispered. "I'll cover you," Sam nodded and cautiously started moving ahead, "Barlam!" he called out. "Come on buddy, this is not the time for this shit."

Kell barely had the time to hear the faint sound of boots behind her before something hard smashed its way through her head and into her brain; her shotgun immediately falling off her limp hands.

Sam heard the sound of the weapon falling on the pavement ,and turned back just in time to see someone wearing an Alliance armour kicking Kell's body towards him. Acting on instinct and desperation, he swung his rifle, with all the strength he could put into the blow. Luckily for him Kell wasn't as heavy as she may have appeared, and the body was even slightly thrown back from the force of the impact.

That move delayed his attacker just long enough for him to get some breathing room; allowing him to see a strangely shaped knife going for his throat. Adrenaline pumping, Sam grinned savagely under the helmet and caught the wrist holding the knife and pulled it sideways, creating an opening big enough for him to slam rifle's muzzle at the gut of the soldier.

Not wasting any time he pulled the trigger; however what came next however was not the sweet sound of bullets tearing through flesh and armour alike, but the warning chime of an overheated heat sink. Caught by surprise by the mechanical failure, he instinctively glanced down at his weapon, taking his eyes off his opponent for an instant. An instant he could not afford to lose.

Before he could realize his mistake, with a deft movement of the hand the Alliance soldier placed the curved blade on his wrist and yanked down. The extremely sharp blade easily slicing through armour and the flesh beneath; the synthetic flexible material covering the joint simply too thin and too weak to stand up against it.

Sam barely had time to realize he just lost his hand before the knife rose up and slammed through his helmet and tongue. The sheer force behind the blow lifting him up before being slammed down on the floor with a resounding crash, ending him.

.*.

Azula stifled a grunt of pain as she rose up after dislodging the knife from the pirate's head. Her unusual parking manoeuvre had been more … problematic than expected, but quite within her tolerance level. Plus she still had two more targets inside the building that needed to be taken out. _'Quickly too,'_ she thought as she heard the gunship engines; it would not be long before them or the gunship would attempt to contact the group she just killed.

Thankfully they were kind enough to bring her more suitable tools for the job. The rifle was a goner unfortunately; in her haste to jam it, she had used way too much power and severely damaged the cooling system. Sure, It would have been of limited use against the gunship, but it was still better than a knife and would have given her more options. Luckily the turian's weapon suffered no such problem.

Pushing any further thought about 'What ifs' at the back of her mind, she moved down the stairs; and in a minute she was looking at the backs of two very bored, very distracted pirates. Not one to look too hard a gift horse in the mouth, Azula quietly waited for the gunship to come back before running towards one of the guards and pressing the muzzle against his head before firing.

The other guard managed to turn and raise her his weapon halfway to his target, when Azula kicked it away from her and pinned it to his thigh near the hip. Taking advantage of the situation, Azula used his leg as a pedestal to propel herself up into a backflip and knee the pirate in his face.

Out of balance and stunned the pirate fell, and Azula wasted no time in shooting him as fast as she could pull the trigger. The first and second shot were blocked by the shield; the third shattered them and the fourth penetrated his armour, making him scream and curse from the pain before another shot ended his suffering.

Azula breathed out loudly, the air shimmering from the heat she absorbed from the gun and was expelling. _'Ok,'_ she thought sarcastically. _'Now the next easy part: bring down a gunship without using heavy weapons.'_

She was running out of time and she knew it. It wouldn't be long before the pilot realized nobody could answer him anymore and decided to run or bring the whole building down on her head. And considering how her luck was going, it was probably the latter.

Poking her head out of cover, she examined the gunship as it made another passage around the building, trying to find a weakspot she could exploit. _'A bullet right up the engines?'_ she considered. _'No, the bullet would melt from … the heat.'_ If she wasn't already hurting everywhere, Azula would have seriously considered slapping herself for being so dense.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling all the sources of heat near her; eliminating each source one by one until only one pair remained. A pair that was circling around her position. She took hold of one and poured as much power as she could into it; making it brighter and more powerful.

Right at the same time, the pilot of the gunship was suddenly thrown in a fight for his life. The sudden boost in one of the engines was throwing him off course and almost turned the vehicle upside down. His attempts to compensate for this however, started working against him when suddenly the _other_ engine went into overdrive instead.

Unable to adjust to the change in time, the vehicle slammed against the ground with a thunderous crash. The sound of it made Azula smile as she got up and hurried to reach the downed gunship.

Miraculously it landed - for a certain definition of it at least - somewhat upright. A relief for Azula as she wanted all the information contained in the computers and she wanted them fast.

Moving cautiously she reached for the emergency canopy release. And as soon as the canopy was blown off, she wasted no time in shooting the pilot's head off with her shotgun. No sense in checking the vitals and possibly exposing herself to an enemy while doing it. Now it was time to gather some Intel.

Accessing the data within was rather easy, unfortunately it did not say much. Only that they were supposed to reach a nearby subway station and shoot down anything flying - or generally moving out in the open - as they made their way there. '_Terror tactics,' _Azula thought. '_Or trying to shut down any attempt to regroup and re-organize.'_

Either way it shed new light on the situation. This gunship was designated "Satil Three," implying that at least two more where around. And despite her advantage she did not want to have a repeat encounter with one; but with flying out of the question, she did not have many other viable options. As skilled as she was, she could not have a significant impact defending the colony by fighting alone and without coordinating with others.

As she mulled over this, her eyes kept going towards the subway station's coordinates. Discovering where they operated from was both very useful information and another crazy idea, but it worked for her once; why not one more time?

.*.

The subway station was not very far from the gunship wreck; half an hour going at a walking pace at best, and she would be going faster than that. Decision taken and not wanting to waste any more time, Azula started moving towards the subway station; forgoing trying to hotwire a car to avoid further trouble with gunship patrols.

Just to be sure however she would stop regularly along the way, and try to pinpoint their location through the engines' heat. Of course other fires were going on, inevitable with so many small battles raging all around her, but she was confident she could spot the difference.

The journey have been both nerve-wracking and eerily calm. In the distance Azula could clearly hear continuous gunfire, yet here nothing and no one could be found. It was lucky, and she had stopped believing she could have lucky breaks such as this.

Paranoia rising, Azula decided to make one last stop before scouting up the security around the gathering point. Choosing a place out of immediate sight, she crouched and tried once again to pinpoint the heat sources of a gunship. This time something pinged on her sense, Several gunship engines and something bigger and stronger than those. And getting closer to her position too; she did not have much time.

Barely refraining from cursing loudly, Azula ran inside one of the abandoned building. Whatever it was it felt like a convoy of some sorts, and she would bet half of her remarkable amount of savings that it had a far tighter security that the patrol she took out.

With no time to properly get away, Azula took a snap and risky decision: moving she quickly deactivated all active eezo cores and then started focusing on her own body temperature; lowering it, taking the heat away from the surface and focusing it inwards. Her body was sending all kinds of danger signals - feeling feverish and freezing at the same time - but her mind, her will, was nearly completely absorbed by the task of not making the illusion of a corpse a reality.

The convoy went past her position not even a minute later, two gunships scanning the buildings and the road ahead and another one hovering protectively over a truck with the logo of a local company on the sides. Immediately Azula stopped lowering her body temperature, allowing the heat to flow back and fight the numbness she was feeling.

Forcing her body to move she rose; at first a bit unsteadily on her feet, but then she began moving around and soon the numbness reached tolerable levels. Not wasting any more time and wanting to take advantage of the attention the convoy arrival would attract, Azula ignored the protests of her body and double timed towards the roof of a nearby building overlooking the city square where the subway station was.

.*.

The plastic of the binoculars melted slightly in her hand as she watched what was happening in the small city square below. Dozens of people - some still being offloaded from the truck - had been rounded up like cattle by the pirates, whom had started a quick selection process. Every once in a while they picked one and shot him or her right where he or she stood.

They were slavers - probably Batarians or Batarian backed – making them the lowest form of scum currently available in the galaxy. She had access to more information than what was commonly available on the news, and knew what happened on colonies their kind raided without filters. The atrocities she saw on those files offended both her practical and her more moral side.

_'If I am ever captured,' _she swore to herself. _'I'll fry my brain to a crisp.'_

Pushing those thoughts away, Azula kept scouting the rendezvous point trying to spot a weak spot in their defenses; something she could use to slip past their perimeter. Unfortunately there were too many sentries backed by drones around, however there were some subway grates nearby. Given how heavy the defenses were on the surface, hopefully the underground would not be as heavily guarded.

After making her way back to street level, she opened a subway grate and dropped down onto the rails below. Thankfully - as protocol dictated – no civilian train traffic was allowed during an emergency. The idea behind it said the subway system should be used by the military – or others emergency services – to provide quick transportation of whatever was needed, be it supplies or manpower, without civilians getting in the way.

Naturally such level of disorganization was never taken into consideration, and now the very system that was supposed to help protect the city and it's citizens was being used against them.

No alarm sounded as she hit the floor, no guard shouting or shooting. Her hunch about the level of security below the surface proved correct, as no slaver was sighted. _'They probably think nobody in their right mind would willingly put themselves in a narrow tunnel with an incoming train,'_ thought Azula.

With no guard on sight, Azula moved towards the station proper; using the low ground to cover her approach. When she reached the station, the slavers where already loading people inside a train. Keeping close to the curb and avoiding the few bodies dumped between the rails, she went near the rear bumper and waited patiently for the group to start the train.

.*.

The voyage was thankfully a short one, and right before the train entered the station she released her hold on the bumper and let herself drop on the ground. _'Must do that again,'_ thought Azula as she winced. _'It was fun,'_ she took a few moments to rest her arms, but then she head loud voices coming from the station.

Forcing herself up, she cautiously walked towards the station using the curb again as cover. Taking a calculated risk, she peeked above the platform to have a better idea of the situation and of her enemies.

"Derek, you are in charge of dealing with the equipment!" yelled a batarian - probably the squad leader - at a short human.

"Sure thing boss," the human readily responded, waiting to see the back of the obviously furious batarian disappear from view before turning around and glare at a turian standing near the subway car's doors.

"Augustus! You deal with the equipment!" he brusquely ordered the other slaver.

"What?!" the obviously displeased turian stiffened in surprise and anger. "Tolak ordered you … "

"No, what he did was putting me in charge and I decided to give you the responsibility," the human interrupted. "So now you have three choices: Go whine about it to Tolak, whine about it to my gun, or just do it." His hand moved up to his hip where a collapsed pistol was magnetically attached. "So, what it will be?"

After a long tense moment, the turian deflated and muttered a barely audible "Fine."

"I knew you would do the smart thing." Derek said as he moved the hand away from his pistol. "Good boy!" his parting shot leaving the turian shaking with rage.

"Good boy!?" the turian hissed seething with anger. "I'll show you how 'good' I am. Let's see how your gun you will fare against a few dozens drones!"

That instantly attracted Azula's attention, maybe she should wait a couple of minutes instead of heading out outside. She waited until he was inside the subway car before climbing up and following the furious turian; he walked down a couple of wagons and then finally reached one where rows of drones – an old Alliance model, probably sold as surplus – were stowed.

The turian brought up his omnitool and started furiously tapping on it. "How about a small modification to the IFF program? HOW WOULD YO … "

Whatever point he was trying to make against his team-mate, it was interrupted by Azula's hand covering his mouth. Taken by complete surprise he offered no initial resistance; then a continuous stream of fire going entered his mouth and went down his neck, annihilating his vocal cords and part of the spinal column. Azula was still holding him so he could not fall on the ground - and thus making a racket – when he went still and started suffocating.

"Die in agony," Azula whispered as she gently she lowered the turian on the floor and started working on his still active omnitool, ignoring his wheezing attempts to breathe. She immediately began transferring the running program to control and manipulate the drones systems to her own, and used it to tweak their IFF and set a timer for their activation.

Doing that took very little time, and then she ordered for her "update" to be spread among the other units. Satisfied with her work Azula dragged the turian out and threw the body under the train. No need to raise the alarm earlier than necessary after all.

That job done, she ventured forward. There was still a slaver's camp to further sabotage.

.*.

It seemed that not a single guard was anywhere near the subway exit. As she cautiously moved up the stairs, Azula could hear a lot of screaming and crying coming from outside. She wondered if the guard were busy with an attempted revolt, but when she finally poked her head above the concrete railing the reasons of their sloppiness became clear.

Apparently nobody wanted to miss the 'spectacle' currently occurring in the middle of the street: the captives had been herded in several small groups, the slavers then disrobed the prisoners and started putting them through a rather accurate examination; all this while their 'esteemed' colleagues mocked the examinees.

A few each group did not pass the inspection, and was promptly executed by the examiner; their bodies then dragged away by a couple of guards and thrown into a growing pile, right next to some slavers armed with flamethrowers.

But what had caught most of Azula's attention was the cruiser sized ship parked near the street, and above a large amount of rubble. It looked like a civilian model retrofitted to house military systems; the additional armor plates covering the most vulnerable parts like what should be the engineering section, and the military grade turreted GARDIAN lasers dotting the hull clearly gave that away.

Not something that would make it a threat for any ship in any standing fleet, but a liner or a merchant ship would be easy prey for it. Civilian design or not however, it was a fortress as far as lonely old her was concerned.

The loading ramp was cluttered with empty cages normally used to hold slaves, but her trained eyes easily spotted the armed turrets mounted inside the cargo bay, and the guards keeping a close eye on the prisoners from the ramp; suicides or last ditch attempts to flee would severely cut into the profit after all.

Using the rubble littering the area as cover, and the jeers and the catcalls made by the spectators to mask the sound of her movements; Azula started circling the ship. If no other entry point was available, the only option left to her would be retreating to look for help.

Thankfully between being in the middle of their own temporary base and the debris making the terrain difficult to traverse even on foot, surveillance was rare and mostly cursory. Still, her problem remained: no other entrances existed beyond the loading ramp. Not willing to push her luck more than she already had, she started to climb a knocked over building in order to exfiltrate from the area.

Just as she reached the top however, the new perspective showed her a possible weak point: there was an airlock roughly on the same level as she was now. It was quite some distance away, normally too far for anyone to reach it but it was not a problem. She had a trick up her sleeve that she could use and wanted to try for quite some time.

Azula crouched to keep a lower profile as she considered the situation. Since the length of the jump was not a problem, what might give her trouble would be the airlock door and the sloped hull. If the door had been upgraded to military standards, getting in would simply take too much time to be feasible. Before she should worry about that however, she would need to find a way to anchor herself on the hull long enough to do the job.

Being able to get past the airlock would be quite useless if she fell immediately after landing on the hull. "Oh, what I would give for an earthbender right now," she muttered to herself. A staircase or a fortification a stomp of the foot away? Sold. Before her mind could further wander off more however, her eyes suddenly widened as the solution just made itself known.

"Why is it that the most obvious solutions," she wondered aloud, "are always the most difficult to reach?"

She took a moment to gather her power, then a huge plume of flames erupted from her feet and hands propelling her towards the hull of the pirate ship. Towards the end of her trajectory she cut off the flames and brought her legs forward so that she would land feet first.

Her aim was true, managing to land on the ship right on target; but a second after that, she immediately started to slide down. A quick movement of her hand however, activated the magnetic locks on her boots; the soles immediately felt as if they were glued to the hull, and stopped her descent.

Normally that system should be used only during EVA operations, just outside the hull of a spaceship while in – rather obviously – space; even so they offered just enough traction to spare her a potentially nasty fall.

Azula remained immobile for a couple of minutes, waiting to see if the spectacle she had made was detected; and as soon it was clear that nobody heard or saw anything, she started working on the airlock door.

The systems to close or open the door were easy to interface with, and immediately she started taking a look at the programming. She did not have the time to do an accurate scan, but it looked like a bad news/good news situation: bypassing the sensors monitoring the door and the airlock itself seemed like a relatively simple work to do, but there was an hard wired alarm linked to the opening or closing of the external airlock door.

Azula frowned as she considered her options: she could try to find a way to override the alarm, but it would take _time_ and time was not something she had in abundance. Or she could try and scavenge something able to blow a hole in the door. A plan that naturally had problems all of its own.

She had another option really, but if the door had been reinforced she would need to either abandon the whole thing or risk it with the override. _'What the hell,'_ she thought. _'It's not like it is going to cost me anything if I try after all.'_

Carefully moving so she would not slip, Azula leaned forward and positioned her finger above the door. She took a deep breath; muttered a prayer, and concentrated her power in the smallest area possible right on the tip of the hovering digit.

The results were immediate and impressive, as the metal heated up and a clear crevice started to appear as she moved her hand; by some small miracle, the metal of the door was not reinforced. It was still the same lower quality alloy and the same thickness normally found on civilian vessels.

Energized by this small victory, it took only a minute to cut a hole big enough for her to get trough and land inside the airlock itself. With her improvised bypasses holding, Azula wasted no time getting inside the ship and started heading towards the ship's bridge.


	5. Chapter 2 Part 2

This is the last piece that were already done. From now on I'll post new chapters/interludes as soon as I complete them.

It was most fortunate that nearly all civilian ships were roughly similar in design - barring a few minor differences changing from race to race – as it allowed Azula to reach the bridge door – a big and heavily armored one at that - quickly and without encountering the rare of crewman still on board.

_'This is it,' _she thought. _'This is where I win or where I miserably lose,'_ recalling her training, she took a few deep breaths, and focused. _'Let's make it a win,'_ with a smirk on her face she opened the door ready for everything.

In an instant she took notice of everyone's position in the room; one right in front of her _'Batarian, male. Armor,' -_ her mind automatically categorizing each target - two near a console _'Human, male, standing. Asari, biotic, sitting. No armor both,'_ and the last one a bit farther away in the pilot's seat_ 'Turian, female. No armor.'_

Before anyone could react to the sound of the door opening, Azula leapt forward and buried her knife in the head of the batarian. The two near the console barely had the time to turn – their eyes widening in fear and surprise – before she ran forward beyond the still falling Batarian. A brief glance to make sure nothing important was behind her mark and then fired her shotgun _'Biotic priority target,'_ set to maximum bullet velocity.

Most of the blast hit the head of the Asari, splattering it all over the console she was previously hunched over. The rest hit the side of the human who bent over in pain, thus giving Azula enough time to reach him and smack the pirate with the shotgun's handle on the nose; sending it and some bone fragments directly in the brain with a satisfying crunch.

The sound of gunshots brought her attention to the last enemy remaining, currently busy with pressing the trigger as fast as she could. Letting her shield tank the few bullets that were accurate enough to hit her, she turned the shotgun against the pilot and instinctively almost pulled the trigger.

The alien was standing in the cockpit however, and all around her where present instruments Azula wanted intact. With her shield still able to withstand a couple more bullets, she smoothly continued her motion by raising the shotgun above her head; took aim, and threw the shotgun at the turian's face with as much strength as she could put in the launch.

Taken by surprise and still in a panic the alien did not react in time, and the weapon ended up hitting her face mid-barrel; even drawing blood. The pilot felt the hit and flinched from the pain, giving Azula time to arrive within arm's length. Moving too fast for the stunned and panicking pirate, Azula first grabbed the wrist where the turian was holding the gun – keeping it away from her body – while at the same itme her other arm went under the alien's crook of the elbow, until she was pushing her hand against the pilot's shoulder.

Taking advantage of the situation Azula slammed the pirate against the wall, stunning her, and applied even more pressure on the alien's arm holding the gun. Without an hardsuit and with Azula using her own limb as fulcrum, the bones in the turian's forearm broke; leaving Azula free to grab the gun and executing the pilot by shooting her at point blank range several times.

With the bridge free of enemies, she clasped the pistol to her side and wasted no time running back to the door and locking it. No security measure stopped her from doing it; in fact those very measures now were working against the slavers, as the bridge door looked specifically made to keep people out if locked.

_'That,' _Azula thought._ 'Should keep them busy for a while,' _Moving among the various control consoles, she examined and discovered - to her malicious joy - that not a single one of them was locked; all systems were hers to play with.

The first thing she did as she sat down, was connect with the drones she sabotaged and activate them prematurely. She watched them on the screen for a little bit, as they rushed out the subway and started massacring the surprised pirates. She would have loved to see those vermin die like they deserved, but she had other problems she needed to deal with first.

While the drones created chaos among the slavers outside, she turned her attention to the ones still inside the ship. One security measure - among the others she discovered - was the ability to raise and lower the gravity in various areas of the ship; that - along with the internal sensors - made it unbelievably easy for her to literally crush like bugs the few slavers left on board, leaving them unable to breath, let alone stand, right where they fell.

With the most urgent threat taken care of she once again turned her attention to the outside, where an apparent free for all was going on. A few more slavers were dead - probably too slow to duck into cover after the first few moments of surprise - but what caught Azula's interest were not the slavers or the drones. It was the prisoners.

More than a few were shooting at the slavers, using weapons taken from the dead ones to exact bloody revenge. And for each prisoner that fell, another took it's place, while the pirates numbers kept dwindling. It was a magnificent show of either hatred or courage - Azula cared not which - and letting someone like that die felt like a huge waste to her.

She ran to the weapons control console and powered up the GARDIAN lasers, setting them at the lowest output possible. She then designated the pirates as enemies, the prisoners as friends and allowed the targeting computer do its job.

Bolts of energy started raining down on the slavers outside; cutting them down where they stood or driving them out of cover, where the drones and the prisoners riddled them with bullets. With nowhere to go, the battle was over in a minute or so.

Satisfied with her work, Azula went to the door and unlocked it. With that many determined fighters on her side and the ship hers to command, there was a lot she could accomplish in this battle now. The faintly blue glowing fist hitting her square in the helmet faceplate, and sending her flying certainly came as a surprise to her.

.*.

Batarian biotics are a rarity outside the Hegemony. It is said that you could spend an entire lifetime travelling trough the Terminus Systems, and never meet one. This is because in the Hegemony every pregnancy within - and around - areas with high chances of eezo exposure, is strictly controlled. Because of that, biotic children very rarely happen to escape notice.

Some fall trough the cracks that every bureaucracy of that size has; or a family unwilling to give up their child is able to successfully bribe the doctor performing the examination. Even then many of the lucky ones simply avoid using their talents - unless backed by powerful individuals or organizations – out of fear.

In the Terminus Systems many tales go around by word of mouth, from the most outrageous to the most plausible. This one is generally considered to fall roughly on the middle, and speaks of how the Hegemony hunted down any "rogue" batarian biotics, sometimes even offering bounties for turning one in.

Between the Hegemony's reputation and the fear of abduction, all free batarian biotics – outside and within the influence of their homeworld - become very cautious with the use of their abilities. It was not exactly a secret that the Hegemony was very jealous of their stock of biotics, and was always looking for new recruits.

Torval was one of those exceptions, born in an agricultural colony with little oversight. When he reached adulthood he left for the Terminus, and there he managed to find a patron powerful enough to shield him from would be hunters. Good thing he did too, as just a few months after joining Tolak's crew, he was called to his office. There he found his boss and three bound and gagged batarians.

Tolak told him then that those three were part of a squad sent to capture him, and drag him back to the Hegemony for 're-education'. He remembers his boss giving him a knife and a gun, then telling him that now their fate was in _his_ hands instead. Torval could still hear him saying. "Cut them free or not. It is _your_ choice and your right."

It was the easiest decision he ever made.

Tolak granted him security, freedom and even revenge for living so long in fear. And because of that his loyalty to the man in charge was absolute, and unwavering. And that same loyalty turned him into Tolak's right hand man, the one he trusted the most to lead and supervise when he was absent.

When the attack came he was in the brig - taking care of a recruit that went too far with the new cargo - while Tolak went to the bridge to deal with a missing gunship problem. As he was working on the recruit he heard what he thought were gunshots coming from the inside of he ship, and went to investigate keeping his biotics at the ready. When the gravity was suddenly raised his readiness and reflexes were what saved his life.

He counteracted the artificially generated push of gravity, with his own manipulation of the mass effect fields; sending him on his knees from the strain, but still breathing and alive. This went on for what felt like an agonizing long time, until - right when he thought he could no longer keep up – the pressure disappeared.

He dropped on the floor panting, his whole body trembling as if he had just completed the most grueling physical activity ever. Trying to gulp in air like a starving man does with food, he removed his helmet as if it was suffocating him and remained on the floor - breathing heavily - waiting for the trembling to reach a manageable level. While he laid there resting his body, his mind went to work; thinking about _what the hell_ just happened and _how_ it could have happened.

Torval was a normal batarian, not a genius or particularly gifted but not stupid either. He did not take long to make the connection and reach the obvious conclusion: someone was playing around with the security systems on the bridge. The realization hit him like a ten ton hammer, sending a flush of much needed energy through his body: An _enemy_ made it to the _ship's bridge_!

Still a bit unsteady on his feet, Torval rose up and started making his way to that critical part of the ship, his stride started getting more and more sure as he went along, until he finally was in front of the locked door, confirming his worst fears. The bridge was locked, and somebody - not of the crew - was using the ship's system against them.

More importantly, Tolak was dead.

Rage filled his being as the notion finally sunk in, a faint blue aura appearing around him as he clenched his fists. He had never wanted someone dead this much, feeling an all encompassing fury that threatened to overrun his sanity and turn him into a berseker.

And then the door opened revealing a human female clad in an Alliance armor. His rage gave him speed, and surprise did the rest. His fist - faintly enhanced by his still recovering biotics - connected squarely with the _ta'far_'s helmeted face.

.*.

The hit sent Azula crashing with her back against the same console where she had killed the batarian, and only her instincts allowed her to narrowly dodge a second punch to the head. Doing that however prevented her from avoiding the knee going for her belly, hitting her with explosive force and making her very short on breath as she folded around the offending limb.

Taking advantage of the position she grabbed both his attacker's legs, then lifted the batarian while ignoring the blows raining on her back and ran towards the wall. The impact was strong enough to crush the batarian's guts between the wall and her shoulder, eliciting a satisfying grunt of pain from her enemy. An instant later Azula slammed her head on the chin of the batarian, the blow forceful enough to make his head bounce off the wall.

Using the breathing space she had just gained, Azula momentarily disengaged to assess the situation. The first thing she noticed was that her helmet visor was cracked due to the first blow, and it was impairing her vision. The second was the batarian, carrying a weapon on his back and wearing light blue armor. _'Probably the origin of that,'_ she thought, remembering something blue around his fist.

All that took less than second and she was already running out of time, with the batarian mostly recovered. Using the few precious moments she had left, Azula jumped back again and pressed the helmet's quick release button, just in time to use the ruined headgear as shield, holding it in both hands to parry the incoming blows. The tactic working quite well until a particularly savage kick wrenched it out of her hand.

The time it bought however had been invaluable, as it allowed Azula to study her opponent and change her tactics accordingly. He was strong, his hits powerful, but he was wild, enraged. Remaining on the defensive with dodges and evasions, giving him the illusion of victory as he tired more and more was the best course of action. And if he started to slow down, she would try to provoke him with some rapid counterattacks.

A punch was deflected and a quick jab to the unarmored armpit left her opponent snarling. One of his kicks was turned into a stumble, allowing her to hit him on the jaw again. She feigned a misstep, so he would attack and leave himself open to a punch on the groin.

It was not long since the start of this dance, that she noticed her opponent no longer responding to her taunting attacks with the same speed; his stance and attacks getting more and more sloppy. Feeling victory close, she tried to psych him out into making another mistake: she allowed a smirk to appear on her face – mocking him - and tried to project as much smugness as she could.

The ploy seemed to work, as the batarian started to literally vibrate with rage. Then a fist, clearly glowing blue, streaked towards her face at incredible speed. Surprised as she was with this unexpected development, Azula managed to narrowly dodge the wild haymaker; it passing so close that she even felt the air displaced by the blow on her skin.

Now however, with him so exposed and unbalanced, she felt it was her best chance to deal the finishing blow. Committed to the attack, she aimed for the undefended flank and stepped inside his guard. She did not have time to react as the hunched shoulder of the batarian rammed her straight in the face. The distance was not that big - so the power behind he hit was not as much as it could have been - however it was still enough to break her nose and force her to instinctively jump back.

She was not a stranger to physical pain, and a broken nose was the least of the injuries one could receive during almost any active career; be it training or real action. Still she could not stop herself from being dazed for a moment, as she mentally pushed the pain to the back of her head.

Time however is a luxury in any fight, and this one was no exception. The glowing fist she dodged started coming back as a backhand. And when she noticed, there was no way she could avoid it in time.

Hoping to minimize the damage she raised her shoulders, covered her head with her arm and tried to lean to the side, attempting to turn it into a glancing blow as much as possible.

When the hand hit, she could feel something in her shoulder giving and then breaking under the blow; then she was airborne again. Pain still had yet to make itself known, and she used those few feeling-free moments to twist mid-air and not land on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

She managed to avoid hitting the floor with her broken shoulder, and took advantage of her momentum to slide on the floor and rise into a semi-standing position; right next the turian's body. Just in time to see a Kishock harpoon gun unfolded and aimed straight at her.

Panic swelling and with no chance to dodge, Azula turned to firebending as a last ditch effort to defend herself. In an heartbeat years of training and drills took over, allowing her to raise her arm in a fast, smooth action and unleash a torrent of fire aimed to the batarian's head.

Whatever the batarian was expecting, a plume of azure flames erupting from Azula's hand was certainly not among them. Surprised as he was however, he was not without combat experience himself and an attack was an attack, regardless of the form it could take. He saw the arm rising fast, and a mix of reflexes and instincts made him pull the trigger a moment before fire erupted from the human's fist.

The jet of fire enveloped his head – making him breath in some of it because of the sudden pain - and charred his face. Blind, on fire, and suffocating, Torval stumbled back and flailed around in pain; fruitlessly trying to save himself. A few seconds later he finally fell down and moved no more.

The pirate's aim however, was true: the spike the rifle spewed out hit Azula's hand dead on – deviating and tearing off a couple of fingers on the way – went through her shield and armor, and then buried itself in her guts.

The force of the impact threw Azula back - making her stumble and fall - and only a chair behind her spared her from of an unceremonious landing on the floor. The impact jostled the spike, finally opening the mental floodgates holding back the pain of all her injuries.

Unable to stop herself Azula screamed and writhed on the chair, as if she was trying to escape the torment she was in. Gradually however – with the adrenaline starting to push everything back – she regained some control over herself; enough for her to take stock of her wounds and improvise something to keep herself alive.

Grabbing the spike with her still functioning hand, she mentally prepared herself for what was to come and started counting to three. Then - with a powerful exertion of her will - ripped away a good deal of heat from the harpoon-like object and particularly around the hole it had made.

A circle of ice instantly appeared around the hole in the armor, fixing the projectile in place. Gasping with pain filled breaths, she waited a few moments to recover before opening a particular compartment in the armor. She grabbed the three small medigel injectors stored there, then clenched her teeth and administered one near the spike; one on the fractured shoulder and the last one on the neck.

Deed done, she dropped the last syringe on the floor and relaxed on the chair, as the painkillers integrated within the medigel started to do their work. Indeed a few seconds later Azula let out a breath of relief, as she could feel the pain ebbing away until it reached a far more manageable level.

Turning the seat around - careful not to further upset any of her injuries – she sluggishly activated the haptic interface, and worked to slave all the ship systems to the one she was in front of. Thankfully the operation was completed with minimal fuss, as keeping her focus was taking nearly everything she had.

Immediately she started using the rerouted communication console to look for Alliance frequencies, she needed a medic and needed one now. She was drowsily checking something tagged as TacNet before her vision went black and slumped on the seat.

.*.

The first thing she noticed when she woke up, was the relatively lack of pain. What previously was an all-encompassing presence in her mind - making concentrating arduous – now it was dull enough to… to… _'Fuck, it's still the most pain I ever have been in!'_ she thought. Still, it couldn't be the work of simple medigel.

The second thing she noticed were the voices, maybe the Alliance found her and administered first aid? The possibility of pirates helping her out of the goodness of their hearts was incredibly unlikely after all.

"…wake…"

Nope, not the Alliance, that sounded a lot more like a turian voice. The odd reverberation in their voices always gave them away. _'Wait,'_ she thought. _'If they are talking about me I should probably listen.'_

"With tense seriousness: I am a nurse, not a soothsayer Jorim."

'_An elcor? And a nurse elcor at that? Really universe?' _Azula rambled._ 'Oh, lost track of the conversation again. I really should stop doing that and start communicating. And open my eyes too while I'm at it.'_

"Wharrgarbl," she communicated while trying to open her eyes. _'…Eh, close enough.'_

"Hey! She is coming about!" a young and _grating_ male human voice shouted. "You did it dude!"

"With annoyed exasperation: I am a girl."

The indistinct light of the consoles around her greeted her, as she finally managed to lift her eyelids. After blinking away the blurriness, she lifted her head and finally looked at her rescuers.

A turian was crouched by her side, busy covering the stumps of her fingers under a thick layer of gauze; the human was talking to the elcor, trying to profusely apologize for his mistake; and the elcor was being an elcor, in other words doing his – _'Her,' _ she mentally corrected herself – best imitation of a small, annoyed mountain.

They were all dressed as civilians with various degrees of dirt and tears in their clothes, the ones on the human were even a bit mismatched. They had been prisoners probably, with the clothing damage a testament of the ordeal they had gone through.

Switching her attention from the one sided conversation - and unwilling to distract the turian taking care of her wounds - Azula turned her attention to herself. Checking her wounds she found the Kishock's spike still lodged in her abdomen, but far more securely held by bandages and tape; her shoulder was firmly locked in place, and a couple of bags - of obvious medical origin – were dripping their contents down a plastic tube and into her arm.

And then there were her fingers. Or the lack thereof.

She could only stare numbly at the two spots were the missing digits should have been present. _'This should be freaking me out,' _she distantly realized. _'Why it's not freaking me out?'_

Azula tried to flex them, but a sharp and powerful stab of pain quickly dissuaded her from trying again. "…killers," she heard someone say.

"What?" she shook her head trying to force herself to focus. _'Why it is so difficult?'_

"With sincere sympathy: Don't worry human, it is normal. Emotional reactions can be delayed by shock and painkillers."

Azula turned to look at the elcor and raised an eyebrow. _'Oh yes,'_ she thought. _'the one who "did it," my true rescuer,' _the elcor seemed to preen under Azula's scrutiny, doing their equivalent of puffing up her chest. "Proudly: I am trying to get a job at the Citadel Presidium hospital, I was here to get the qualification necessary to work on humans," she explained.

Azula took a look at the bandages covering her and snorted in amusement. "I can safely say you passed," she had said. It was the first time she said anything longer than single word, and the raspiness of her voice – as if a long time has passed since she spoke - came as a complete surprise.

"With evident worry: You should save your strength human; those wounds are bad enough on their own, worsening them might kill you," rumbled the monotone voice of the elcor.

"Damn straight!" the human piped up. "When I found you, I thought you were a goner. If it hadn't been for Gladys here," he paused a moment to slap the elcor's massive shoulder - much to the annoyance of said non-human - "You would have been too! She told grumpy face there," he said indicating the now seated turian, which earned him a glare. "What to do and saved your ass!"

"With resigned annoyance: My name is not Gladys."

_'Sweet Agni, but he is annoying,'_ Azula mentally groused. "I am quite aware of my current limitations," she heatedly started to say. "they are not a … "

"Do you have a plan?" the sudden interruption of the - so far silent - turian took everybody by surprise. Azula looked the alien in the eyes and uttered three words, "Yes, of course."

.*.

The TacNet was a communication network dedicated to sharing and requesting information between the various pirate groups attacking the colony: sightings of possibly lucrative objectives; requesting reinforcements against brewing resistance groups, so they could be squashed before they grew too large; notifying which areas one operated in and even the option to call in some fire from orbit.

Best of all, it was not hampered by the jamming going on. They could use the ship to set up a command post right under the pirates' nose, and use it to strike against them in a far more organized fashion. All that was left was finding the scattered troops around the city and to point them against the attackers.

With the plethora of information available to her, finding and safely guiding those soldiers to her newly acquired base of operations was easy. As was directing them against the pirates. Convincing some of said soldiers that no, it was not a trap? Well, that happened to be far more difficult.

"Listen," a rather annoyed Azula said, "I gave you all the codes, the passwords and useless Alliance trivia you asked for. _What more do you want?!_" she screamed at the object of her ire.

"No, _you_ listen lady," a particularly stubborn one drawled. "I don't know if you noticed, but the situation does not exactly lend towards trusting the first voice you hear on the radio."

"How about this corporal?" she nearly growled. "There are three enemy gunships coming your way. Now, you can ignore me and die when they arrive or you can reach the coordinates I sent you and meet up with sergeant M'bala. Your choice. Shepard out."

Azula closed the channel and tiredly slumped back on the chair; she was cursing quietly those few scattered, bullheaded morons left, when she noticed a few small brown splotches on the console table in front of her. She winced at the sight and started wiping the blood from her mouth and the table, before grabbing a medigel syringe and injecting herself with it.

"You should let someone else take over you know? You can't go on with just medigel, painkillers and antibiotics," the now familiar voice of Jorim broke the silence.

"And who exactly should take my place then?" Azula answered the turian. "Those that were supposed to take command were obliterated along with HQ, and everyone who tried to organize something was annihilated before it went anywhere.

"Face it Jorim," she sighed wearily. "So far I'm the only one that somehow managed to coordinate our efforts and NOT get blasted into oblivion. And yes," Azula said warningly. "I know it sounds quite the ironic thing to say."

"I said nothing," the turian responded a little too quickly. "The problem remains though, you can't go on like this. You need a real medic and when this is all over, a surgeon too; and you will need them yesterday as you humans say."

"You can avoid the medic part and jump straight to the surgery Jorim," she said. "Sadly we are fresh out of surgeons."

"Team Turtle-duck to Command, come in Command." a voice came from the loudspeakers.

"Sorry, Jorim," said Azula, ending the conversation. "Duty calls," she turned back to the console and opened up a new comm. screen. "This is Command, I receive you Zukauskas. Please report."

"We achieved all objectives, but we have taken heavy casualties: unexpected hostile gunships were at the site. We request reinforcements and new objectives."

_'Another one with information that incorrect?' _Azula thought. _'It is the fourth team in a row,'_ she rubbed the bridge of her nose, thinking._ 'I guess it is time for a change of plan.'_

Decision taken, she started to relay her new orders. "Negative on the new objectives Zukauskas, bullshit is now in effect. I repeat: bullshit, bullshit, bullshit."

"Bullshit acknowledged Command, we are on our way. Over and out."

"Jorim, go talk with Gladys about the transfer to site B, and…"

"Already on it," Jorim interrupted her. "Started to be too good to be true huh?"

"I believe so and I don't want to wait around to see if I was right or wrong," Azula waved her 'good' hand at him in a shooing motion. "Now get to it. I have a few calls to make."

.*.

Elanos Haliat was a very angry turian. He had organized this whole operation with painstakingly patience and precision; gathering information, allies, favors – even acquiring a few debts - little by little, so not to suddenly appear on anyone's radar. And when the time came, he had played all his cards to _perfection_.

There was one more ship than usual, but one or two extra Alliance ships were already considered in his plan. Captured and converted freighters opened up their cargo doors and started launching a massive wave of torpedoes; a wave immediately followed by the most agile and fast ships at his disposal.

The Alliance had valid ships, equipment and crews - far superior to what he had – but quantity was a quality all of its own, and they had only so many guns they could use. Taken between the massive torpedo wave and the pirate fleet, all the Alliance ships were quickly destroyed along with their escape pods.

That left the planetary defence grid, but it was not a problem for a mobile force in control of the orbit to crush that too. It certainly took its toll on his forces doing that, but overall the losses were still well within an acceptable range.

Even the ground assault went without an hitch. The exploitation of a breach in their defenses quickly led to his forces destroying the Alliance leadership and scattering their soldiers. Rudderless and uncoordinated they were no longer a credible threat, and the pillage of one of their most successful colony could truly begin.

Then everything started to progressively go wrong. Sacks of resistance suddenly managing to escape annihilation; convoys carrying meat and loot destroyed and their precious cargo lost. And now his allies were being attacked and killed in their own temporary bases.

One could have been a fluke, two a worrying coincidence but three was enemy action. However it was impossible. It required coordination and deep insight on their own operations, and the humans had none of those; he made sure of that.

Still it was the only logical explanation for the sudden turn of events. Nearly fighting himself every step of the way, he issued a few sharp orders and implemented a contingency he never thought would be needed: he started manipulating his TacNet to isolate the leak in the communications.

He manipulated the information given to one group, did not for the other one, and the different set of responses should help him trim down the list of culprits. A lot of people would be angry at him, and he could not even tell them _why_ he was doing that or risk his ploy failing. But he was sure they would understand the reason why once the leak was found, and he could freely explain himself.

Slowly and patiently - ignoring all the new reports of defeats and slaughter of his own allies – only an handful of candidates remained. Among them, one of his subordinates. He ignored the chill tingling down his spine as he read the name, and barked an order. "Communication! Tell the _Cadrega_ to call me immediately. Morlok! Keep up with the screening and remove that ship from the list; I'll deal with Torlak myself."

Elanos drummed his fingers on the armrest of his seat as he waited for Torlak to appear on his viewscreen, but minutes passed and there was no word from the batarian. Rage filling him Elanos started to open a direct line to Torlak himself, when his communication officer shout stopped him cold.

"Contact from the Cadrega! They are under attack by multiple sides!"

"Show me!" Elanos barked. _'Is this proof that Torlak is innocent?'_ he wondered.

Dutifully, a bird's view of the furious battle currently going on around the _Cadrega_ appeared on his screen. Tolak's men were defending themselves with all they had, even using the _Cadrega_ GARDIAN system to fight the enemy. That however had the unfortunate drawback of having much of the battlefield obscured by the dust and debris kicked in the air by the laser blasts.

Elanos watched with rapt attention the fight, when he started to sense that something was wrong. He narrowed his eyes and studied closely the battle going on, trying to put his metaphorical finger on what had triggered his mental alarms. He was looking at some strange movements among the troops on the frontline, when he spotted what he was looking for: there was a repetitive pattern in the laser attacks; it looked like it was blasting at the enemy, but it was not.

There could be a million perfectly sensible reasons for that, but his suspicions were growing and he decided to take a closer look where the fight was most intense. The dust generated usually hid a lot of what was happening, but it was not impossible to see what was really going on if one paid enough attention.

What looked like wounded people were given to "his" men, transported in the base itself and then down the subway. At the same time, able soldiers left the ranks of "his" men and reinforced the "attackers." It was a farce. Whoever was down there figured out what he was doing, and set up this whole thing to keep using _his_ Tacnet and make a fool out of him.

"Gunner," he said in a glacially calm tone, "aim at these coordinates and open fire."

"Sir, that is dangerously close to our own for… "

"THEY! ARE! NOT!" he furiously roared; everyone on the bridge instinctively trying to look smaller at his outburst. "The Cadrega is lost. Obey my command," Elanos continued in an apparently far calmer tone.

"Y-yes sir!" too scared to further question his orders, the gunner carefully took aim and fired a shell from one of the side cannons. The projectile following the path perfectly and smashing straight in the middle of the biggest "fight."

At least it would have done so, except a bluish shield appeared right above them.

"I knew it," Elanos hissed as he watched everyone down below throw all pretense away, and start evacuating post haste. "All guns! Open fire on the Cadrega! NOW!"

Dutifully his gunner fed new targeting data to the computers, and soon an hail of projectiles flew from Elanos' ship and crashed on the Cadrega's shield. The barrier withstood the onslaught sent its way, but after an handful of seconds another one hit it; then a third. At the fourth the barrier broke, the shells going through and easily shattering the hull; the fifth pulverized the remains.

Elanos Haliat was watching the destruction of his enemy with malicious glee, when a series of alarms blared on the bridge. A lot of ships had just dropped out of FTL; very close to his own severely depleted fleet and were already moving to cut off all escape routes. He did not need to see the IFF they were broadcasting to know they were Alliance.

He had lost. All the preparations and his meticulous planning, and he had lost. He wanted to scream, to kill everyone around him for their ineptitude, for failing to carry out his _perfect _plan. "Signal the retreat then get us out of here," he said instead.

**Illyria, Kassavidis Memorial Hospital**

"A ceremony awarding Lieutenant Azula Shepard with the…"

"…we were basically blind and deaf, we wanted to fight those fuc***g ass***s but we had no idea where they were. Then the Lieutenant v…"

"The property damage is stag…"

"…tens of thousand of cas…"

"The hell is a turtle-duck?"

After shutting down the TV screen with an annoyed wave of her omnitool, Azula flopped back on her hospital bed and closed her eyes. She did not mind hearing the praise at first, but after four days of forced bed rest and with the same interviews and footage shown on TV… Well, she was getting a little bored and stir crazy. The superior medical care than what could be scavenged from the pirate's ship infirmary certainly helped with her improved health and consequent desire to _do_ something. Pain be damned.

She started drumming her fingers on the bed after a tune she heard on the TV, when an unexpected voice broke her reverie.

"I am not disturbing you, am I?" her visitor said in a deep voice.

Azula opened her eyes and then froze when she recognized who the intruder was. After a couple of heartbeats, she quickly stopped doing her best interpretation of a deer in the headlights and tried to salute; only to be immediately stopped by her guest. "Considering your condition, I think we can dispense with the formalities; what do you think?" captain David Anderson asked her with an easy smile on his face.

"Ah! Y-yes, of course captain, sir," stammered Azula, utterly floored by the captain's sudden appearance in her hospital room. _'FOOL! You are making a fool of yourself!' _she internally screamed at herself. _'Pull yourself together!'_

"I'm … honored by your visit, but, if I may ask, what brings you here?" Azula managed to ask without accidents. "Sir," she then belatedly added.

"Anderson is fine if you want Lieutenant," he said, setting Azula a bit more at ease. "And yes, you may ask. I am here because my ship was close enough to render aid - even if not for the battle itself – and because I have a proposition for you."

"A proposition?" she said puzzled. "About what?"

"I have read the reports and I have talked to the people who met you," Anderson spoke, giving no sign he heard her misstep. "Unfortunately there is no recording of your fight inside the Cadrega," _'So that was its name,'_ Azula thought. "But even just what you had done before and after that raid makes you more than qualified for this," he said putting a folder - with the letters 'ICT' stamped over it Azula noticed - on the table near her bed.

Azula eyes were glued to the folder, a whirlwind of emotions going through her. This was her big chance, what every soldier in the Alliance aspired to. An invitation to enter the "Villa" training facility and be trained by the best to be the best.

"Are you ready for it?" Anderson's voice cut easily through the maelstrom of thoughts going on in her mind, and focusing it all on a simple, important question. _'Am I _truly_ ready for it?'_

Being chosen for training at the Villa – regardless of success - was already a source of great honor and prestige, but it was also a one time chance. You fail, you are out for good. It was an incredibly tough training even at the starting level, and with her forced bed rest a noticeable decrease in performance was inevitable. It also took time to…

_'To what?' _she thought stopping the rampant speculation cold. _'There are no ifs or buts. Am. I. Ready?' _she asked herself.

_'Yes.'_

"Yes," Azula said, unwaveringly looking Anderson in the eyes.

"Good," he responded with a proud smile.


	6. Interlude 1

**Interlude 1**

**From:** Mr. Pink

**To:** LorLor

Here is a couple of juicy emails I managed to get my hands on.

**From:** Major Donal Donato

**To:** Colonel Lin Radenko

**Subject:** Possible gain

Sir,

I would like to report that candidate 4247C A. Shepard is exhibiting much higher than normal performances after the successful administration of the standard ICT gene mods. I have already examined the patient using all the procedures regulations allow, but the candidate vehemently refused any more in-depth exams.

I feel that being able to understand why the mods took so well is of enormous importance to the Alliance. The increased effectiveness on all our troops – even by half - would increase both their combat capabilities and their survival rates.

In light of that I would like to request permission to make attendance to more comprehensive exams a direct order. I know it is unusual, but I believe the possible gains are more than worth it.

Respectfully awaiting your reply,

Major Donald Donato

ITC Medical Department

**From:** Colonel Lin Rodenko

**To:** Major Donald Donato

**Subject: RE:** Possible gain

I sincerely hope you are joking.

In case you are not: The answer is hell no. She refused, she is in no danger of dying, therefore it is well within her rights to refuse and I won't push the issue.

I strongly recommend you drop this.

**From:** Major Donal Donato

**To:** Colonel Lin Radenko

**Subject:** Candidate Shepard

Sir,

I have to repeat my request of ordering candidate A. Shepard to submit to a deeper medical examination. The subject's agility score is the highest I have ever seen, and in all the other areas the subject is no slouch either. Given these results I decided to take a closer look.

Her DNA was in the database and on closer examination it showed several minor mutations. Those mutations might be the key to superior gene-mods for every soldier in the Alliance and every human, but I can't do anything worthwhile with just computer data.

Please, think of the possibilities and give the order.

Respectfully,

Major Donal Donato.

**From: **Colonel Lin Rodenko

**To:** Major Donald Donato

**Subject: RE:** Candidate Shepard

I distinctly remember telling you to drop the issue. Since you seem incapable of following this order, you will be transferred to another facility and an official reprimand will appear in your official file.

Good enough for your Shadow Broker boss, Lorina?

**From:** LorLor

**To:** Mr. Pink

Yes, payment will be at the same spot at the same time.

.*.

**Audio log taken from the office of the CO of the SERE training facility on Io.**

"…She is fucking insane! I want her out of the program! NOW!" a very angry voice shouted.

"Oh really? What for?" the calm and collected voice of the base commanding officer responded.

"What…? What _for_?!" outrage and disbelief were equally present in the voice. "She threatened to blow up the lava containment wall if we did not release the squad! The whole FOB would have been destroyed!"

"Oh? And how exactly she would have done that? I don't remember her squad having any high explosives within their equipment."

"She … She commandeered a M29 Grizzly," the instructor said, his voice faltering.

"And how did she manage that?"

"She attached herself to the tank we had to send to track her when she escaped into the lava fields. The tank computer reported damage to the transmission and was driven to the garage."

"So let me get this straight. This woman manages to evade capture and survive in that lava swamp,"

.*.*.

_Azula was keeping a metaphorical eye out for heat sources as she traveled through the volcanic landscape – foot burns from stepping in a hidden lava puddle were not uncommon in this training – when she sensed some small, moving, and strangely coherent heat signatures._

_Normally she would not be able to feel something – from a certain point of view – that cold; but if what she remembered was right, firebending draw its power from all sources of heat. Not only the sun - usually the biggest and most abundant one – but also volcanoes. _

_Earth of course had more of them, but Io was also several times smaller and had more than 400 active volcanoes. That much energy concentrated in such a small package greatly enhanced Azula's firebending._

_That hesitation and that awareness of the 'enemy' team's positions proved to be invaluable when two of the 'enemy' ambushers near her, were hit by a burst of training rounds as soon as they revealed themselves. _

_With the others busy with her teammates and with a sudden hole in the ambush, they had no time to stop Azula from slipping away. It was not a situation they had never encountered before, but what they did not expect was the direction Azula took. After all who in their right mind would willingly go in a swamp made of lava?_

.*.*.

"get into your base undetected,"

.*.*.

_Even a blind person could feel the vibrations made by the tank following her, giving Azula ample time to prepare her surprise hitchhiking. The lava right next to the path was not of the liquid variety, but rather a dense and viscous one; allowing her to freeze solid a coffin sized platform, push it back in the thick molten rock and then freeze the lava on the perimeter, slowly building a rocky cocoon with an open top._

_Out of sight and hidden from sensors, Azula waited for the slow going vehicle to arrive; and when it just passed her hiding place, she jumped out and latched to the belly of the machine. From there it was pretty easy to sabotage the vehicle just enough and force it to return back to base._

.*.*.

"then steal a vehicle,"

.*.*.

_Once the tank stopped and the crew left, Azula slithered out from below the vehicle and right behind the only mechanic in sight. Unaware of Azula's presence as she was, it was not difficult to put the mechanic in a sleeper hold for a couple of seconds. Not enough to make her lose consciousness, but more than sufficient to make sure she got the hint._

"_Hi," Azula whispered in her ear. "Lieutenant Shepard of trainee squad 7. Can I trust you to not make a fuss and play dead?"_

_The other woman nodded and sat on the floor. "You could have just tapped me on the shoulder you know?" she angrily whispered back._

_Azula simply raised an eyebrow and stared at the mechanic. "Yes, fine. You are right," she capitulated. "I would have at least cursed and attracted attention."_

_Pretend dead enemy grousing taken care of, Azula started to look at the vehicles parked in the repair garage. Maybe there was one she could use._

.*.*.

"and use it to free her team from the enemy's hands."

.*.*.

_Driving the M29 Grizzly tank around was the most fun she had had in a while. She could not stop herself from giggling, as people jumped out of the way while she made her way to the containment wall. After a particularly exhilarating drift that left the flank of her tank facing the wall, she turned on the external loudspeakers._

"_Hello everyone! I am a member of the squad you guys just captured and I want you all to look at the lava containment wall," Azula just finished speaking when she pressed a button and the cannon fired in the direction of the wall, the carefully aimed shell flying way over its edge. "Next one is going to hit it, unless you free my squad and surrender to me!"_

.*.*.

The CO steepled her fingers as she regarded the instructor. "It may be just me, but considering that chain of events, it seems the only one who fucked up is you."

.*.

**LV-426, N7 candidates combat evaluation.**

LV-426 was a small moon not even worthy of a proper name, the only remarkable thing about it was its above average heavy metals deposits. Of course said deposits attracted a good number of miners, which in turn attracted a good number of pirates and less scrupulous mercenary groups.

The job of the SSV Canberra was to keep an eye on those settlements on the fringe, and generally be a deterrent for all those undesirables. Sometimes those patrols were used to throw some N6 soldiers into combat situations, and most of the time nothing in particular happened; other times it was very different.

"Krogan incoming!" yelled Azula's examiner. _'No, really?!' _Azula sarcastically thought. _'How did I miss a ton of angry, rampaging lizard.'_

"Fire in the hole!" she instead replied as she rolled a few grenades right between the krogan's legs. She immediately ducked back into cover to dodge the return fire from the vorcha horde, and a moment later she was rewarded by an explosion followed by an enraged roar of pain.

Peeking behind her cover Azula saw the krogan – sans legs - trying to get closer crawling on his belly. She waited for a couple of seconds then shot the krogan in the head, the bulk of its corpse would make an excellent extra bit of cover.

"It was certainly nice that I brought all these grenades and weapons, isn't it?"

.*.*.

"_Lieutenant Shepard," commander Da Silva said. "What in the name of God are you doing?"_

"_Preparing for the ground mission sir," she responded. Ignoring at the same time the look of disbelief on the officer's face._

"_Lieutenant," he said patiently. "We are going against ill equipped pirates, not the Turian military. You don't need … all that." All that being several packs of grenade material for the omnitool nanoforge, a shotgun, a curved knife, two pistols, a sniper rifle and an assault rifle. All complemented by a block of ammunition for each weapon._

"_You never know sir."_

"_All right," De Silva sighed, knowing his subordinate would not budge. "All right, you win. It is your back that has to carry all this stuff after all."_

.*.*.

"Shut up and keep firing!"

.*.

**Earth, Paris. Video of a Cerberus operative recruiting Dr. Donato (see attached file for background), made by Shadow Broker operative Mr. Yellow.**

Donato was in a bar, sitting alone and nursing a drink when a balding black man sat at his table. "Hello, may I sit?" the man said in high pitched voice.

"This table is occupied," a morose Donato said. "Leave me alone."

"Don't worry Mr. Donato, I won't take long," the man smiled without showing his teeth. "In fact I think my offer might even interest you."

Donato snorted at the declaration of the intruder before sarcastically replying, "I highly doubt you have anything I want."

"Not even some fresh tissue samples?" the operative said sliding over a datapad. "Come on, take look. I bet it seems familiar to you."

Annoyed, Donato took the datapd in hand and started reading it. As he progressed his eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up almost all the way up to his hairline. "Where did you get these?!" he excitedly exclaimed.

"Given how tough the training is, injuries are inevitable. It was easy for my – and yours too if you want – organization to take some extra samples without anyone noticing."

"What is the catch then?" said Donato suddenly alert and alarmed since the word 'organization' was mentioned. "I highly doubt you would be doing this out of the goodness of your heart.

"Of course not," the man smoothly replied. "You are not a fool and it would be insulting of me to pretend otherwise. That said, the catch is not as bad as you may think doctor."

"Still, you have not said what it is."

"We simply want you to work on other, highly stimulating projects too," the Cerberus operative explained. "We work to protect and strengthen mankind's position among the stars doctor, and to do that we need brains like yours."

"Tell me more," said Donato.

.*.

**Tattoo parlor, Arcturus Station.**

"Come on, what is with this sudden resistance? It's tradition!"

"I care not for this tradition and I never agreed to have my body punctured by sharp implements!"

"Oohh, I think someone is afraid…"

"I. Am. Not. Afraid. I simply see no reason to have ink forcefully shoved into my skin. Being worthy of the N7 insignia is something that will not go away, and needs no memento."

"So you are saying that the honor of being chosen and promoted for the N7 rank, is not worthy of celebration?"

"No. Yes! But not like that!"

"Then you are saying that every other N7 graduate who did it are honor-less scumbags, who desecrated…"

"Fine! Fine. You win Azula. I'll get the damn tattoo."

"I knew you would Marko."

.*.

**Arcturus Station, Docking bay 47.**

It was one beautiful ship.

She was not a fan of the turian design, and the big boxy human ships were not exactly the best looking in the galaxy; but this one somehow managed to blend both building doctrines into something better than the sum of its parts.

Azula kept watching the ship as she went through the shield keeping the docking bay pressurized, and perfectly aligned herself with the docking ring in one smooth maneouvre. _'The pilot,'_ she thought, _'Seems to be as skilled as his dossier indicates.'_

As soon as the ship was secured Azula wasted no time in walking down the tube connecting to the ship and stepping inside the airlock of her new home for the foreseeable future. When the decontamination procedure ended and the doors opened she found herself looking at a very familiar face.

"Permission to come aboard, sir," she said, saluting the man in front of her.

"Permission granted, commander," he answered before smiling at her. "It's good to see you again Shepard."

"It's good to see you too, Anderson," she replied. "It is good to be on board the Normandy sir."


	7. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**SSV Normandy, Infirmary**

"OW! How long until this torture ends?" snapped Azula.

"You missed the last two appointments commander," doctor Chakwas calmly answered. "In which case the regulations require a more in depth check up of your prosthetic fingers. By the way can you feel that?"

"Yees, I can feel that," Azula managed to say through her gritted teeth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you."

"Absolutely not," Chakwas responded sharply. "But if a bit of pain now will remind you to come to your future check ups, then all the better."

_'Oops, wrong move.' _"Sorry doctor," Azula said. "I just got so used to them I forget they're artificial."

"Well, it's good to know that at least you 're no longer having acclimatization problems," the doctor said, mollified. "Still you could have requested cloned parts, the surgeon must have told you about the disadvantages of cybernetics."

"They did," admitted Azula. "But it was the fastest way I could go back to active duty, and afterward…" she shrugged the only shoulder she could move. "Well it did not seem that important."

"Anyway everything seems to be in order," the good doctor said after putting away her instruments. "Just remember to keep them clean and, please, to come to your check ups."

"I will, don't worry doc," said Azula smiling. "In fact, why don't…"

"Commander Shepard, if doctor Chakwas is done with you, meet me in the comm room," captain Anderson's voice crackled from the intercom.

"Aye aye captain," said Azula. "Well doctor, duty calls."

"Take care of yourself out there commander."

The trek from the infirmary to the comm room was not a long one , and she arrived at the same time of their very own Specter – A turian called Nihlus Kryik with a dark carapace and white tattoos on his face – assigned to the Normandy for her shakedown voyage. Normally it wouldn't bother Azula that much but he had this annoying custom of showing up unannounced; like he was doing right now. Because of that habit of his, since he came on board Azula had to basically stop practicing her firebending.

"Hello commander," he greeted her in a friendly manner. "I was hoping you'd get here first; it will give us a chance to talk."

"Sure," replied Azula. "What do you want to talk about?" _'Are you finally going to explain _why_ are you here?' _she had her own theory of course but it was just that: a theory.

"I'm interested in this world we are going to," he said as he paced back and forth. "Eden Prime, I heard it's quite beautiful."

"I've never been there myself, but I know that corporal Jenkins is from there. I can call him down here if you want." _'Where are you going with this?' _thought Azula. _'What does Eden Prime have to do with you and me?'_

"There is no need, commander," he said. "What I want to talk about is what Eden Prime represents, not its physical peculiarities."

_'What Eden Prime represents?' _thought Azula, suppressing a frown. _'If he is trying to make a point, he is certainly taking the long way around to reach it.'_

"What it represents is the proof that humanity can not only establish colonies across the galaxy," he said, "But also protect them. But how safe it is really?"

_'That is not racism speaking,' _Azula realized, she had seen him interact enough times with the crew to know that. Granted, turian body language is not easy to read and he was a Spectre, but to have no faith in one's own abilities was as foolish as underestimating the enemy. _'So what he is really hinting at?'_ she thought. _'What he is really asking?'_

She thought about the question for a few moments, before looking he turian in the eyes and answering him. "No planet is truly safe, not even Palaven." Azula said. "All soldiers protecting their planets are like a bodyguard charged with protecting a VIP: it can deal with most threats except a sufficiently motivated attacker or something entirely new."

She paused for a moment – waiting for Nihlus to speak up – but when he remained silent she took it as a sign to go on, and continued with her explanation. "Using Earth as an example, if the Batarians decides to throw all their fleets at it at the same time then no, it's not safe or protected enough. Likewise something entirely new like a workable dreadnought sized laser – to use an extreme idea – is also something I'm not confident any fleet can defeat for certain."

"Well said commander," spoke Nihlus with a smile. "Indeed the galaxy can be a very dangerous place and the Alliance needs to be ready for it."

The turian looked like he was going to continue when the door opened and captain Anderson walked in, interrupting what he was going to say. "I think it's about time we told the commander what is really going on," began Anderson.

"You mean the artifact retrieval mission we are doing?" spoke Azula, enjoying the looks of surprise on both men's faces. "What? He's a Spectre," she said as if that explained everything. "There are not that many things that can catch the attention of one of them; and considering that Eden Prime is a growing colony, a Prothean artifact unearthed during an excavation seems to be the most likely explanation for Nihlus being here."

To their credit, they collected themselves fairly quickly, except Nihlus. He started to sport the turian equivalent of a very, very smug grin. "Good job, but it seems you missed the second reason I'm here commander."

_'A second reason?' _thought Azula. _'What else could he need to do on Eden Prime?' _"And what reason that would be?" she asked Nihlus.

"You, commander," answered instead Anderson. "He's here to evaluate you on the field, see you in action."

"That sounds quite close to my N7 test," she said. _'Is this really going where I think it is?'_

"Something like that, yes," confirmed Nihlus.

"You don't need me to tell you how important this is Shepard," interjected Anderson. "The Alliance wants more say in the Citadel Council and a human within the Spectre's ranks will show how far the Alliance has come."

"Your actions on Elysium were decisive in repelling the attack and dealing a massive blow to all pirates operating in the Terminus Systems," continued Nihlus "It requires both great courage and incredible skill to pull something like that, and you showed you had both," he paused for a moment, as if he wanted to underline how important what he was going to say next was. "That is why I put your name forward as candidate for the Spectres."

It required all her willpower just not to grin like a madwoman right then and there. A place within the Spectres ranks was something she never even dreamed of! Not trusting her voice she simply nodded keeping her face as impassive as she could.

"I need to see your skills for myself commander. Eden Prime will be the first of several missions together," said Nihlus.

"You'll be in charge of the ground team. Secure the beacon and get it to the ship ASAP," continued Anderson. "Nihlus will accompany you to observe the mission."

"I'd like to bring corporal Jenkins with me captain, his local knowledge would…"

"Captain! We got a problem," Joker interrupted from the intercom.

"What's wrong Joker?" Anderson said.

"Transmission from Eden Prime sir, you better see this."

"Put it on screen."

Soon the sound of gunfire filled the comm. room, and several armored figures could be seen fighting something just off-screen. The transmission did not last long as it was suddenly cut off, but Azula kept staring at the screen; right there towards the end of the transmission, the camera showed something massive coming down from the sky.

"Reverse to 38.5,"Anderson ordered and suddenly the mysterious enemy revealed itself, and it looked like a giant metallic hand, wreathed in red lightning, coming down from the sky. "Status report!" barked Anderson.

"Seventeen minutes out, no other Alliance ships in the area," Joker supplied the requested information.

"Take us in Joker, fast and quiet," Anderson said grimly. "This mission just got more complicated."

"A small strike team can move quickly without drawing attention," Nihlus spoke with confidence. "It's our best chance of securing the beacon."

"Well," Azula suddenly said. "It seems something new just decided to knock at our door."

**SSV Normandy, hangar bay.**

"…then there are the gas bags. They're harmless unless you are really close and the gas filled sacs rupture, then you are going to feel quite sick for a bit. It's not dangerous but very unpleasant."

"Anything else on the terrain Jenkins?" asked Azula.

Jenkins shook his head. "No sir, I did not visit the part where our drop zone is very often. My family and I lived quite a bit away," corporal Jenkins was someone that wore his heart on his sleeve, and his anxiety at having his homeworld attacked was there for everyone to see.

"Don't worry Jenkins, whoever is attacking the colony is going for the beacon," Azula said trying to calm the soldier down. "If your family remains indoors I'm sure they will be ok at the end of it."

"You are right commander," Jenkins said after a deep breath. "I must…"

"Commander," Anderson's voice interrupted the corporal. "We are approaching the drop zone; is your team ready?"

"Yes sir, just say the word."

"Good, your team will be doing the heavy lifting during this operation commander," said Anderson. "Go in heavy and head straight for the dig site. Recovering the beacon is your number one priority."

Lieutenant Alenko – a biotic still using the L2 implants, according to his dossier – looked ready to ask a question when Joker's voice interrupted him. "Approaching drop point one," the hangar doors opened at the same time the pilot finished speaking; the roar of the winds cutting off whatever Alenko was going to say.

Right then their esteemed guest – and Azula's ticket for the Spectres – made his appearance. "Nihlus? You're coming with us?" Jenkins asked.

"I move faster on my own."

"Try not to get killed," said Azula half-jokingly. "It would look horrible on my resume."

"I've survived worse commander," he answered her after a brief laugh. "Keep your eyes open and good luck," then he jumped off the ship and disappeared from view.

"He will scout ahead and feed you information," spoke Anderson, focusing their attention on him once again. "Otherwise I want radio silence. Stealth and speed are key to this operation."

"They won't even know we were there captain," said Azula. "We will get the beacon and be back before you know it."

"I sincerely hope so, Shepard."

"One minute to drop point two," Joker's voice was heard again from the loudspeakers.

"Good luck out there," said Anderson looking straight into Azula's eyes. She only nodded in response and as soon as Anderson turned his back, she activated the helmet's camera. Technically something to avoid at all costs during highly classified operations, but with the possibility of becoming a Spectre on the line she wanted a little bit of extra security.

Just in case things went pear shaped and people started looking for a scapegoat.

* * *

><p>Joker's piloting proved to be excellent as always as the Normandy hovered just a few meters from the ground, making the drop a very easy one to make. Once on the ground Azula immediately unfolded her sniper rifle and scanned the clearing they were in, a paranoid precaution maybe but the Normandy's arrival had not been exactly stealthy; an ironic statement if there ever was one.<p>

"Let's move, people," Azula ordered once she was sure the area was secure for the moment. Both Alenko and Jenkins moved ahead of her, towards a rock outcropping next to an incline, and stopped under its cover. There were a lot of boulders of all sizes and form littering the slope that could be used for cover, and more importantly no enemy sighted yet.

With a couple of hand gestures she signaled Alenko to provide overwatch, and Jenkins to move forward so he could take cover behind some of those rocks. He almost in the middle of the path when she started to hear a low whining sound. "Down!" she yelled almost at the same time she understood what that sound was. Thankfully the corporal followed that order without any conscious thought on his part, and that instinct – drilled in him by the Alliance instructors – was what saved him from being torn apart by an hail of gunfire.

His desperate dive may have saved his life, however it did not fully spare him from being hit; the warning came a little too late and the drones who appeared had already been firing. Azula ignored his screams of pain and along with Alenko she started firing at the handful of drones that had just appeared, making short work of the weakly shielded machines.

"Area secure commander," the lieutenant spoke after a few seconds.

"Go check on Jenkins," Azula ordered. "I'll keep an eye out."

He quickly ran to the fallen soldier's side and after unfolding his gun, he started examining Jenkins while at the same time trying to comfort the downed soldier. With the corner of her eye she could see as Alenko reached for Jenkins' medigel reserve, and applied it to his shoulder and somewhere around the hip. It wasn't long before the injured soldier quieted down and Alenko rejoined her.

"Good news and bad news commander," Alenko immediately said, keeping his voice down. "He'll live but I don't want him to move around or the wounds risk getting worse and finishing the job."

_'Fuck,' _Azula eloquently thought. _'Not even five minutes in, and I'm already one man down,'_ she looked at the prone form of Jenkins and reached a decision. "We can't do anything for him,"Azula finally said, "And we can't call the Normandy back. We'll put him behind some cover and give him some of our medigel supply, then we will continue to the dig site."

"What?"Alenko said loudly, shock and surprise clear in his voice. He moved in front of Azula, as if he was physically trying to stop her from leaving with his bulk. "Commander, we can't just leave him behind," he pleaded. "If more drones or whoever is controlling them comes, he'll be killed!"

"And what exactly would your proposal be, lieutenant?" Azula coldly replied. "We can't drag him around, and with all the fighting going on around the colony I can't risk the Normandy again for an extraction," Azula sighed deeply before continuing. Alenko's loyalty and empathy for his fellow soldiers did him honor, but there was a time and a place for it, like for everything else.

"Look," she said, "I know it's hard to accept and I don't particularly like it either, but I can't risk over two dozen lives for one person. Especially not when doing so would also put the whole mission in jeopardy," Alenko was someone with a rather strict control over himself, but the subtle clenching of his jaw and the small creaking of his armored gloves when he clenched his fists spoke more loudly than anything else.

"Aye aye ma'am," Alenko finally softly replied, his body visibly relaxing. "I understand."

"Listen," Azula continued after a moment, "the dig site isn't far from here. When we secure the artifact we can call in the Normandy and then go get Jenkins, not to mention we are supposed to be under radio silence until we secure the beacon too."

He stood up a little straighter at that, and even his voice sounded a little more energetic. "That should work, commander," he said.

"Then go help Jenkins," Azula said with a small smile. "I'll stand guard."

While Alenko did his best to leave Jenkins as comfortable as possible, Azula accessed her weapons software and increased the speed of the bullet when it was shot; with one man down the increase in firepower would be sorely needed.

"Commander," Jenkins called her, interrupting her tinkering. His voice raw from the shock of the wounds and the painkillers.

_'What now?' _"What is it Jenkins?" Azula asked after crouching near him while still keeping an eye out. "Finally ready to admit the superiority of tea over coffee?"

He snorted and started to laugh before biting back a moan of pain. "Ow, no laughing. Laughing hurts. Not fair," he took a moment to recompose himself and the pain to subside before continuing. "No, commander. I've heard and I just… wanted to apologize. I messed up and now I'm making things more difficult…"

"Do you have a precognition power I wasn't aware of Jenkins?" Azula said, interrupting his apology.

"No ma'am," he whispered, trying to avoid looking at her.

"Are you apologizing that you don't have one?" Azula continued.

"Of course not," he replied.

"Then what are you feeling sorry for?" she asked him.

Jenkins remained silent for a couple of seconds, then he took a deep breath and relaxed against the rock he had been propped against. "I was being an idiot, wasn't I?" he rhetorically asked. "Thank you commander."

"You are welcome, corporal idiot," Azula cheerfully replied. "Ready?" she asked Alenko. After a nod of confirmation from Alenko that everything was ready, they began walking along the small trail leading into the small woods up the hill.

The trip itself through it was rather uneventful aside from a communique from Nihlus and a few scattered enemy drones. Their first real encounter with the enemy assaulting the colony – not their equipment like the drones – happened almost immediately after they got out out of the woods and reached the top of a ridge overlooking a clearing.

From there they heard the familiar sound of the flying drones and gunfire rapidly approaching. There was barely the time to reach for cover when a figure in blue armor appeared from behind some rocks, chased by those flying machines and a couple of humanoid figures. The human – with no Asari reported on Eden Prime, the possibilities of being another race were pretty slim – noticed them and quickly dived to the side behind a large rock formation, giving Azula and Alenko a clear line of fire to her pursuers.

"Alenko! Target the drones!" Azula ordered.

Moving without hesitation the biotic glowed and slammed one of the drones right into another one, taking both of them out. Azula was not idle either as she dropped into a crouch and placed a shot in the torso of each creature, whom garbled some kind of electronic sounding screech when they died. The rescued human did her part too, taking out two drones with precise shots from her gun. The whole fight took less than a minute, and soon after Azula and Alenko joined the recuperating solider down the clearing.

"Thanks for your help commander," she greeted Azula, still taking deep breaths. "I didn't think I was going to make it."

"Not a problem, soldier," said Azula, giving the soldier a quick glance to check for injuries. "I'm lieutenant commander Azula Shepard and this is staff lieutenant Kaidan Alenko."

"Gunnery chief Ashley Williams of the two-twelve," she said saluting Azula. "You the one in charge here ma'am?"

"I'm in charge of the artifact retrieval mission, yes," Azula carefully answered. "Can you give me a status report, chief?"

"I don't know much beyond what happened to my squad," she answered, going into a parade rest position as she spoke. "We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit, and I have been fighting for my life ever since. We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut off our communications."

"Is the rest of your squad around?" Azula asked. The Normandy did not have a lot of soldiers available for ground missions, and a three or four man squad was already a big strain on that department. Having the support of the soldiers already present on the planet would be quite the advantage.

The gunnery chief shoulders dropped slightly, her voice tightly controlled as she responded. "No, I... I don't know. We tried to double back to the beacon, but we were caught in an ambush. I think I am the only one left."

Azula internally winced a bit at that piece of news. Losing a friend was bad enough on its own, losing so many in such a short time must not have been pleasant."I am a man down myself and I could use the help," she said as she approached the other woman and put an hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to honor your comrade's memories by blowing up a few more of those things?"

"Damn straight ma'am," Ashley hissed, her voice tinged with barely restrained rage. "I'm ready to blow those Geth to kingdom come whenever you want."

_'Geth?' _Azula took a better look at the things she had just killed and noticed the physical resemblance to the Quarians. _'What are the Geth doing out here? Or more importantly: what's inside that beacon that is so important?'_

"The Geth hadn't been seen outside the veil in over two hundred years," Alenko piped up. "Why are they here now?"

"The beacon obviously," Azula answered. "It's the only thing of any relevance that happened here."

"Yeah, that must be it," Ashley agreed.

"All the more reasons to hurry up and reach it before they do then,"Azula said.

"Yes ma'am," Ashley said, unfolding her rifle. "Follow me, we are not far from the dig site."

"Lead on chief," _'Maybe things are finally looking up,' _ Azula thought.

The trek to the dig site was short one and devoid of any enemy, something that boded ill tidings in Azula's opinion. And indeed her pessimism was proven true when they arrived at the dig site and not only discovered that the beacon was gone, but also found a lot of corpses freshly impaled on spikes mounted on a tripod; some of those bodies placed them were even still twitching. Most of the remains had civilian clothing, _'Workers and scientists,'_ Azula theorized, but some still had armor on them; Alliance issue armor.

"No… Penny…" Ashley murmured before bowing her head. If the armor was not confirmation enough, Ashley's whispered denial sealed the deal: Some of her teammates were among the impaled corpses.

"Classic terror tactics," Alenko grimly commented as he inspected the bloody sight.

"Alenko, Williams," Azula said softly but firmly a few moments later. "We need to go. We are going to kick the Geth's ass and then we will be back to get them down from there, but we need to go _now_."

"What about Jenkins commander?" Alenko asked after looking away from the horrifying spectacle.

"Who's Jenkins?" Ashley inquired, latching on the question and pointedly avoiding to look at the corpses. "Is he the guy who went down?"

"Yes," Azula answered cutting off Alenko. "He was too injured to move but in no danger of dying, so with the battle going on I was not willing to risk the Normandy – our ship – more than necessary," she waved her hand, cutting off any potential comment from the pair. "I'll call the Normandy; Anderson will know if it is safe enough to do a medevac. Williams, you know the area, where could they have taken the beacon?"

"There is a train system not far from here, we will need to go through the scientists camp to reach it though," she answered, gripping her rifle a bit tighter than before. "We just need to go up that ramp to…"

"Change of plans Shepard," Nihlus voice interrupted Ashley. "There's a small spaceport up ahead and I want to check it out. I'll meet you there."

"A spaceport," Azula murmured.

"That's where the beacon must be," Alenko said, finishing her thought.

"We don't have much time," Azula said. "You two go ahead while I make the call, if the Geth are monitoring the communications they won't go after you."

"Commander…" Alenko started to say. Both his voice and his body language made it clear that he was not willing to leaver her alone.

"Stop questioning my orders and _move_ lieutenant!" Azula snapped at him, using all her authority to make him obey her order.

"Yes ma'am," he simply said after a moment of hesistation before moving out.

Azula watched their retreating backs before opening up a channel to the Normandy. "Ground team to Normandy, requesting medevac close to drop point two. Recruited local garrison member. Continuing the mission."

She had just finished her transmission when the sound of gunfire came from the camp overhead. She barely was halfway up the slope when the gunfire stopped and she heard Alenko's voice on the radio. "Commander! If you're still near the dig site, destroy those spikes!" he said, his tone betraying the urgency of his command. "They turn people into some kind of… mechanized zombie."

Alenko barely finished the word 'spikes' when Azula turned and lobbed a few grenades into the cluster of those things below before continuing for the camp. What he said sounded pretty ridiculous, but in every interaction she had with him he had felt like a very grounded individual. At worst she blew up some corpses, at best she just made sure no enemies would appear at her back unannounced.

The scientists' camp had been devastated, with charred corpses and destroyed buildings everywhere. Not only that, but it also sported the same spikes the dig site had, only this time those things were retracted and bullet riddled corpses were sprawled on the ground. Their skin looked gray and there were glowing blue lines running all over their bodies, also tubes and other mechanical additions could be seen all over the bodies. '_Alenko's description was quite_ _correct,'_ thought Azula._ 'Those things _do_ look like mechanical zombies.'_

"Commander," Alenko called her from a shack at the edge of the camp. "We found survivors!"

"Tell them to shut themselves in, then let's get moving," Azula ordered. "The beacon is our top priority and there are no more hostiles here."

The lieutenant poked his head back inside the shack – presumably to speak with the survivors – then jogged back to Azula and Ashley, right on time to see an impossibility. In the distance a gigantic ship – the same ship seen in the distress call in fact – could be seen rising from the ground, red lightning running around its frame. A ship landing – even one looking like a cuttlefish a part of Azula's brain noted – was not unprecedented, a ship bigger than a dreadnought doing it was another matter entirely.

Azula had fair bit of grounding about ships and what made them work, and every bit of knowledge she had was telling her that the requirements for what she was seeing were enormous; big enough to slide in the realm of the impossible. Their gawking however was brought to an immediate end by the sound of metal grinding against metal and a hail of gunfire from a few Geth units.

"Alenko, Williams! Take care of those zombies, I will deal with the Geth." Azula ordered briskly as she unfolded her sniper rifle.

There were two dozens of those blue and gray mech-zombies – _'Workers and passengers,'_ Azula realized – who immediately started charging up the hill towards them, howling as they made their mad dash. Alenko immediately went to work using his biotics to either launch those … husks of men and women against each other or tripping them, creating tangles of mutated limbs each time. And each time he did it Ashley was ready to throw some grenades in those groups – blowing them to bits – or taking them down with short and precise burst from her assault rifle.

At the same time Azula was not idle either, keeping the Geth from making a few extra holes in her comrades. One was too slow when reaching for cover and had its light-bulb head blown off in one shot; another thought the metal railing was enough protection against Azula's overclocked sniper rifle, and found itself sadly mistaken. The last one was hiding behind a stack of crates when Alenko biotically pushed the heavy crate away, giving Azula a clear shot.

After a minute it was all over and the group cautiously relaxed the grip on their weapons. "Damn," Ashley murmured. "Those zombie things are really creepy."

Thinking back to those unnatural howls, Azula could only agree. "Yeah, they are, so keep your eyes open unless you want to know if their bite is as bad as their looks."

"Commander," Alenko interjected, pointing at something. "Isn't that Nihlus?"

Looking down at the train station Azula saw what Alenko was pointing at: a distinctively dark turian-like body was lying on the floor unmoving.

* * *

><p>Azula very nearly broke into a full blown run to reach the turian body, only her ingrained instincts – drilled into her during training and honed in battle – made her slow down and keep at least a basic awareness of the battlefield. As she got closer however it became more and more clear that against all she had hoped, the body on the ground was that of Nihlus. A gunshot wound ran along the side of his face, going from the back of the head to the eye at the front.<p>

As she looked at the body, Azula could not hear Ashley's questions or Alenko's saddened response. Her mind was whirlwind of rage and worry; about her career basically being shot in the head like Nihlus had been, and her hopes of spectrehood slipping right through her fingers like the blood dripping from Nihlus wound.

_'Wait,'_ Azula thought. _'Why there is so much blood around? And why it's still…_ _dripping?'_ While head wounds usually bled a lot, usually it happened because the heart was still pumping large amounts of blood to the head. When someone dies the hearth stops working and the blood starts obeying the laws of gravity; slowly drifting downwards within the body.

Azula's eyes widened as she realized what she was seeing could mean, and quickly activated the basic medical diagnostic scan every military grade omnitool had. It was nothing particularly complex or accurate – unlike those used by medics and field medics – but to see if a bone was really broken or if someone's heart was still beating, it was a more than adequate instrument.

When the omnitool reported a faint heartbeat Azula's hands moved in a blur as she grabbed the medigel from Alenko's side and crouched, spraying the substance it in the open wound. She was almost done when her own ears picked up a suspicious sound behind the crates in front of her, and almost at the same time Ashley shouted a warning.

"Movement!" she yelled as she and the rest of the group pointed their weapons in the same general direction.

"Wait, wait! I'm human! Don't shoot!" a male voice was heard from behind the crates.

"Get out in the open slowly and with your hands in the air!" Azula ordered the man from her crouching position, pistol ready in hand.

"Here! I'm coming out, please don't shoot," the owner of the voice walked out in the open, trembling and with his hands way above his head. He took a look at her group and seemed to wither under Azula's angry glare. "Identify yourself!" Azula ordered the man.

"My… my name is Powell, I work here and I was behind those crates when the attack came," he said as if he was trying to justify himself, only to be met by silence and still pointed guns. "I was still there when I saw your friend getting killed by that other turian," he fearfully blurted out when the quiet became too much for him.

_'Wait,' _Azula thought_. '_Other _turian?'_

"Describe this other turian," Azula brusquely said lowering her gun. She was imitated by her companions a moment later.

"Well, I didn't see much from where I was," Powell seemed to relax a bit now that he no longer had guns pointed his way. "But he was all gray and had those antenna things turian have on the side of his face," he briefly described. "Your friend seemed to know him too, called him Saren he did. Then this Saren guy goes behind him and shoot your friend in the head."

_'Shit,' _cursed Azula in her mind._ 'This is worse than I thought!'_

"Can't really disagree with you on that, ma'am," Alenko said.

_'I just thought that out of loud, haven't I,'_ Azula thought, balling her hands into fists.

"That Saren guy used the train to leave just a minute ago," the dock worker spoke in less scared tone of voice. "The next stop is the spaceport, if you hurry up you might be able to catch him."

"That's where the beacon must be," Ashley piped up.

"Then it is where you and I are going," said Azula. "Alenko!" she barked interrupting him right as he was opening his mouth to speak. "Stay with Nihlus, find a first aid kit or anything like that and do your best to keep him alive," she turned to look at him straight in the yes, making it clear that no, this was not something he wanted to discuss with her. "I don't care what do you have to do. Keep. Him. Alive."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, wisely keeping anything he wanted to say to himself.

"And you," Azula whirled around pointing her finger at the dockworker, making him nearly jump out of his skin. "Show him where you hid, help him out and then forget it happened. As far as you're concerned and if anyone asks, this turian is dead. Do you understand?"

"W-What? No! Why…?" whatever he was going to say was lost in a squeak the moment Azula jumped over the crate and invaded his personal space. "Oh? Do you have something else in mind?" she said with obviously faked curiosity. "Let me guess, is your plan to run away?" the way he cringed right when she asked that question might as well shouted his intentions to the world.

"Let me offer you a choice then," Azula continued ina glacial tone of voice. "You can hide here with the heavily armed, biotic soldier or you can run away, hoping you don't end up turned into a cybernetic abomination like your friends," she pointed at one of the turned bodies, "maybe like that one."

"Commander…" she heard Alenko's reproaching voice, but paid him no attention. Nihlus had been shot in the back with an handgun, and if he could not see how big of a mess that implied she was not going to hold his hand and explain things to him; not right now. If keeping Nihlus alive – along with his testimony – required leaning a bit on this guy, so be it.

"Well?" Azula said, pushing the dockworker. "Have you reached a decision?"

"You bitch," Powell murmured, eyes downcast. "YOU GIGANTIC BITCH!" he angrily shouted looking up a moment later, tears freely flowing from his eyes.

"I'm pleased to see you chose well," she replied ignoring his outburst. "Help Alenko, keep silent about the turian's survival and everything will go just fine between you and me," what would happen if things did not, went unsaid and left to the man's imagination. Not that she would follow up with the unspoken threat, she had better things to do than explain to a random civvie the value of discretion after all.

Ignoring the crying man, she turned to look at Alenko's disapproving scowl and Ashley's restrained anger. "Alenko, if me and Ashley don't come back or you receive no communication from us within a reasonable timeframe, assume us dead and call the Normandy for extraction. Ashley, you're with me."

Alenko kept his scowl fixated at a her a little longer, then wordlessly walked past her and started a whispered conversation Azula could not be bothered to follow. Ashley remained still and kept glaring at her, her whole expression and body language declaring to the world the righteous anger she was feeling at the moment.

"Move it, Chief," Azula said as she went past Ashley, prompting her to unfold her rifle and start following Azula.

The place where they had found Nihlus' body was not far from the train loading station, and after easily dispatching a few Geth the two of them found a still functioning, open topped cargo train. As they made their way to the control panel at the other end of the train however, a giant Geth – easily twice the size of any of their footsoldier unit met thus far – rose from behind a row of seats and shot a fireball-like blast at her and Ashley.

Acting before her consciousness fully elaborated the threat, Azula kicked Ashley out of the way and used that same motion to push herself into safety. The attack hit exactly where they stood just a moment before, exploding in a concussive blast that barely missed them. Between herself and Ashley, Azula was the first to recover and see the big Geth charging down the train and right at them.

It took a moment for her to take hold of the heat present over the train's pavement and brusquely pull it out, creating a slim sheet of ice on which the giant Geth immediately lost traction and fell. Azula immediately released back the heat she took, melting the ice, and jumped on her feet; then – before the machine could mount any kind of defense – her and her companion started unloading their guns on the helpless Geth.

"That," Ashley observed after giving Azula an odd look. "Was one lucky fall. If the floor had not been wet we would have been in serious trouble."

"Than lets thank the spirits for our good luck and let's move," Azula replied, dismissing what happened with a wave of her hand. "We already wasted too much time."

A bit more cautiously than before to prevent any further surprises, the two women finally reached the control panel and started the train. "Better find some cover," the Gunnery Chief said. "It won't take long to reach the spaceport and I bet the Geth will be waiting for us."

Indeed Ashley's estimate was not wrong and in just a few minutes they reached the spaceport docking station, a structure made with two platforms separated by the train rails and connected by a bridge in the middle. Both Azula and Ashley carefully peeked over the thick metal plates made to hold the cargo, and attentively examined their surroundings looking for signs of Geth activity.

"This is strange," Ashely said, rising up from behind her cover. "They must've known we were coming, why they haven't attacked?"

"Oh great," Azula groaned in dismay. "Why don't you ask what could possibly go wrong while you're at it Chief?"

"I didn't think you were the superstitious type Commander," Ashley said, amused, while they left the train and started going up a ramp.

"As the saying goes, walk a mile in my shoes and then we'll see if you are going to keep taunting the universe that way," Azula dryly retorted. "In my experience…" Azula trailed off right before going over the bridge connecting the two sides of the station, and peered suspiciously at the crates on the other side.

"What is it Commander?" Ashley asked, raising her rifle automatically.

"Those crates, look at how they are arranged," Azula said, pointing at the objects in question.

"Nothing on the bridge, crates arranged for maximum cover…" Ashley muttered. "This is a trap, isn't it," she declared after a couple of moment.

"I would be very surprised if it isn't," Azula agreed, putting her weapon away. "I'm going to try something, cover me if they wise up and start shooting."

"What…" Ashley started to ask, when Azula cut her off by jumping over the railings and shimming her way under the bridge. "You're crazy!" Ashley yelled into the radio.

"Sanity is for the weak," Azula happily replied as she made her way towards the other side. "It was a trap all right," she said over the radio when she reached the middle. "There are motion sensors here, if we walked down that bridge the Geth would've caught us with our pants down."

"Can they be disabled? It would be nice to turn the table on them at least once," Ashley suggested.

"No, I don't think so. Not if we want to hurry," Azula replied after taking a closer look at the sensors. "Still, they aren't looking down here so we can keep going with my original idea."

"It would be nice to know what idea it is," Ashley groused. "ma'am," she belatedly added.

"Just watch for the fireworks Williams," Azula smugly replied.

After carefully covering the last few meters distancing her from the platform edge, she gripped it with one hand and lifted herself up so she could plant a grenade on one of those suspicious crates; the adhesive coating made by the omnitool's fabricator working perfectly. Planting the explosives took very little time, and as soon as Azula was at a safe distance she detonated them.

The crates shattered in a million pieces, the debris – turned into shrapnel by the sheer force of the explosions – tearing apart the synthetics hiding behind them. At the spectacle Ashley rose from behind her cover and let out a wild cheer, but a few moments later half a dozen more Geth came from the entrance right in front of the bridge. Out of cover Ashley immediately became the target of all the new enemies, all the Geth firing with mechanical precision and draining her shield in a matter of moments.

It would have been her end right then and there had not Azula popped out from under the bridge – holding her shotgun with one hand – and killed two Geth with as many shots. The sudden attack gave the synthetics a far more pressing concern, and Ashley the time to duck back into cover and recharge her shield. However Azula's attack may have diverted the Geth's attention from Ashley, but now they were focused on her and opened fire as soon as they had her in their sights.

She did not wait around for them to test how tough her armor was and as soon as she saw the synthetics turn, Azula dropped her shotgun – catching it with her feet – and used the support beams under the bridge to get away from the line of fire. The Geth garbled something in that language of theirs and started to move into more favorable positions to shoot her; doing that however exposed them to return fire from Ashley, forcing them once again to shift focus or to seek cover.

With her attackers no longer pinning her down Azula then moved from one side of the bridge to the other, taking shots wherever she could. With only a few units left and their ambush properly wrecked, the Geth did not last long despite fighting to bitter end. After a few seconds after the last synthetic fell and no more eezo signatures appeared on the sensors, Azula jumped on the bridge and a rather incensed Ashley Williams caught up with her shortly after.

"That was insane," Ashley tersely said. "If any of those flashlight-heads so much looked in your general direction when you dropped down, it would've spotted you."

"It was a calculated risk," Azula replied, shrugging to dismiss the other woman concerns.

"A calculated…" Ashley started to say, eyes widening in disbelief.

"There was no way to hide a spotter and if one was actually poking his head out, we would have seen it."Azula interrupted. "Also if one of the Geth decided to take look, _you _would have seen it and I would have dropped down between the rails; outside their firing lines."

Seeing Ahsley's still wasn't convinced, Azula placed her hand on the other woman shoulder and gave her a small smile. "But your honesty and concern are appreciated. Now let's go, we wasted enough time as it is."

Ashley's lips twitched upwards for a moment, then she let out a resigned sigh. "You're right Commander, let's go. The beacon should not be far from here," Ashley's words proved to be true as they found beacon just after the station's exit, miraculously without any enemy being present.

It was a tall obelisk – two or three times Azula's height – resting on a pedestal made of the same material of the beacon itself. There was something looking like mist rising from the pedestal and climbing over the beacon itself, and from the top a beam of light shined towards the sky. Azula found herself admiring the simple but elegant lines of the artifact. _'Whoever the Protheans actually were,' _she thought. _'It seems they had an eye for aesthetics.'_

"Strange," Ashley spoke, "it wasn't doing that when they dug it up."

Azula narrowed her eyes at the news, and examined the beacon more closely before fixating her gaze on something partially hidden by the artifact's bulk. "And I'm pretty sure it didn't have one of those," she grimly said, pointing her finger at the out of place object.

Not wasting any time Ashley moved to the side of the beacon – while keeping a respectful distance from it – to take a better look at what Azula pointed out, only to start cursing when she had a better view of the object in question. "It's bomb ma'am, they must have rigged the thing to blow," she angrily said. Azula in the mean time wasn't standing idle either, and had activated her omnitool to take a scan of the bomb. "Worse than that Chief," she said grimacing when the results appeared on the screen. "It's nuclear and it's active."

"Shit!" Ashley said, summing up the whole situation. "They want to take out the whole colony?! Is that thing really _that_ important?!" she nearly shouted.

"Good question, Chief," Azula said calmly. "And I have all the intentions to poke a few holes in this plan of theirs, but I need your help."

Ashley straightened up and turned to look at her. "Just say the word Commander," she said full of determination. "Whatever you need."

"Nothing particularly dramatic Williams," Azula said smirking slightly. "Just watch my back while I call the Normandy and see if we can disable this thing without damaging the beacon."

"Shooting bad guys in the face if they show up?" Ashley said with a smirk of her own. "Can do ma'am," she finished while hosting up her rifle.

Azula nodded then once again opened a channel to the Normandy. "Normandy this is Ground Team. We found the beacon, but it looks active and there is a nuclear device near it. The artifact may have been rigged to blow, and I'm requesting assistance in disarming the bomb," SOP required in cases like this at least another bomb expert to be present, either physically or through a comm channel; the idea behind it being that two sets of eyes and experience were better than one.

"Negative ground team," Captain Anderson's voice crackled through the comm channel. "Too many hostiles flying around in your area and we can't keep the channel open too long or we'll risk being discovered," there was a moment of silence on the other end, then Anderson started speaking again; his voice clearly apologetic. "I'm sorry Ground Team," he said quietly. "You'll have to do this on your own."

"That did not sound good," Ashley commented without turning around.

"No," Azula admitted. "But easy and I never seem to go well together, so nothing new there."

She ignored the faint muttering from the Gunnery Chief and cautiously started getting closer to the beacon and the bomb. She was just a few meters from it when the artifact started glowing and pulsed with an unknown energy, she barely registered what happened when she started feeling something tugging and pulling her towards it. "Oh, fuck!" Azula cursed while fighting to get free from the telekinetic grip reeling her in.

The curse made Ashley look back, and after a moment of surprise she immediately started to run towards Azula. "Commander!" Ashley shouted as she ran.

"NO!" Azula shouted back, stopping the other woman in her tracks. "Call the Normandy! Code 4247C A, it's…"

The beacon finally won the struggle against Azula and lifted her up in the air; she tried to struggle further, but she was unable to move of talk. For a second nothing happened then she felt something strange, like being touched but felt as if it came from the inside. The sensation grew stronger and stronger with each metaphorical poke. It started as a sense of discomfort centered in her head, then grew until it became pain and then agony. And just as she could no longer form a coherent thought, a vision started.

A series of images going too fast to make sense flashed in her brain; she could still see the beacon and the train station with her eyes, but at the same time she was also seeing and feeling a jumbled mess of … something: Pain, despair and something metallic, artificial. Each sequence of images however felt to her as if she was losing her fingers all over again, and just as the strain was starting to be too much for her to bear the beacon suddenly – and gratefully as far as she was concerned – exploded, launching her through the air and into blissful darkness.


End file.
